Deadly Secret
by Sabraia
Summary: The existence of personifications of nations is a powerful secret, to be kept from all but a select few in each nation's government. If this secret ever falls into the wrong hands, the resulting conflict could spell disaster for the entire world. / No pairings, rated T for later violence and some language.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note/Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia; what a shock. It belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

It was one of those rare, quiet days when he had nothing to do. Not even his brothers had come along to pester him. For once, England had the house to himself. He could sit down and read a book, or possibly work on his needlework, without any disturbances. The Englishman knew days like this were vanishingly rare, and he intended to take full advantage of the opportunity to enjoy a brief period of peace and quiet. He spent a few moments perusing the books on his shelf, selected one, then sat down in the recliner and began to read.

He was not two chapters in when his phone rang.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, England slammed the book shut and reached for the phone. He was slightly taken aback at the name showing on the caller ID.

"Why is Germany of all people calling?" England wondered aloud. He grabbed the phone and answered. "Hello, Germany?"

"Hello, is this England speaking?" came the reply.

"Yes, this is he. What is it?" England said.

"There is an urgent matter that has come up in my country, and I need your help."

England arched an eyebrow. "Urgent matter?" he repeated. _And why would it involve me?_ he thought.

"Yes. I'm investigating a suspicious group operating near Brandenburg. I'm told you're the best nation at spying, so I could really use your help."

"Suspicious group?" England asked. "What, exactly, are they doing?"

America looked at his watch and groaned. Canada was late _again._ Maybe it would have been a better idea for America to have picked up his brother at his house, rather than wait for Canada to drive himself. They both needed to catch the same flight, and since Canada had missed the flight last time, America had offered to drive them both. Canada then suggested driving to America's house, and then the two would carpool to the airport. However, this was proving to be a less than brilliant strategy. Now both of them would miss the flight. And if America was late to the world meeting, either England or Germany would probably strangle him.

"Come on, dude…" America grumbled, glaring at his watch again.

Fortunately, it was at that moment that Canada finally drove up in a battered and snow-covered pickup truck. Canada hurriedly parked the truck and clambered out. America walked over, and before he could begin berating his twin, Canada was already apologizing profusely over being late.

"Dude, seriously, calm down," America said, after Canada's fifth apology. The American stole one more glance at his watch. "I think we can still make it to the airport in time, but we'll have to hurry."

With that, America spun around to fetch his suitcase and car keys, leaving his flustered twin to wait. Canada went back to his truck and retrieved his suitcase, just in time for America to come bounding over, suitcase in hand. America quickly led them into the garage, where his cars were parked. He went over to a bright red Mercedes-Benz, practically flinging open the door. He and Canada placed their suitcases in the trunk, then America jumped into the drivers' seat, whilst Canada much more calmly climbed into the passenger side.

Canada barely had enough time to put his seat belt on before America revved the engine and was backing out of the driveway. The car jerked violently as America shifted it from reverse to drive, and pressed hard on the gas. He nearly hit the fence on his way off the property. Canada, meanwhile, clung to his seatbelt for dear life.

"Um, America? Could you not drive so recklessly? I mean, if we wreck on the way to the airport…"

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing…"

Canada shuddered. America's driving habits were one reason he was hesitant to carpool with him. But, America had insisted, and Canada knew that once America got an idea in his head, it was nigh impossible to get him to change his mind. _Maybe next time I'll pretend to be sick,_ Canada thought, as America sped them through the city streets.

At some point, America had turned on the radio to some rock station. While Canada didn't mind the music, America had a tendency to play it a little too loud. After being ignored three times when he asked that the volume be turned down a little, Canada gave up, and reached in his pockets for some earphones. He had brought them, intending to use them on the plane, but now seemed as good a time as any to use them. America wouldn't mind; he probably didn't even notice.

With the help of the earphones, Canada's journey in America's car was made much more bearable, and before he knew it, America was pulling the car into a parking slot in the airport parking lot. America set the parking brake, then climbed out, fetching the suitcases out of the trunk. He then set a brisk pace towards the entrance, Canada following close behind.

While they were checking in, America glanced at his watch again. He swore under his breath, and muttered something about airport security. Fortunately, they both went through security a lot faster than either one expected. They got through security, and were headed toward their gate when someone bumped into America.

"Oh! Excuse me! I am so sorry," the stranger said. The man straightened himself up, and seemed to do a double take on looking America in the face. "Um, pardon me, but what's your name?" the stranger asked.

"My name's Alfred," America replied.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Alfred; you looked like someone I know," the stranger said. "I'm Charles, by the way."

America shrugged. "I get that a lot. So does my twin here, Matthew," he said, wrapping his arm around Canada in a brotherly gesture.

"Gee thanks," Canada muttered. He bit his lip; he'd lost count of the number of times other nations had mistaken him for America, and had taken their anger at America out on him by accident. But he knew better than to mention that in public, in front of people who didn't know about the nations.

"Oh, you're twins?" Charles said. He took a moment to glance back and forth between America and Canada. "Yes, I see it now. Identical?"

Canada threw a questioning glance at America. Even they weren't fully sure.

"Yeah," America said, releasing his brother.

Charles nodded, then turned sharply when someone behind him called his name. He waved at the individual. "I'll be right there!" he said. He turned back to the twins. "Got to go, sorry. My flight's boarding."

"All right. Bye." America and Canada waved. When Charles disappeared from view, they exchanged glances. America shrugged.

"Let's go, Mattie. I think our flight is boarding too."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note/Disclaimer: I am still learning how this site works, so there might be some weird formatting errors or something of that nature. I know I screwed up with the author's note in the previous chapter. In any case, I still don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.

* * *

England knocked on the door and stood back. Presently the door swung open, and the British nation was greeted by Germany.

"Hello, England," the German greeted. "You're here earlier than I expected."

"Well, I was able to sort some important things out to be taken care of in my absence," England replied. "For once, it actually went rather smoothly."

"What sort of things?" Germany asked as he ushered England inside.

"Mostly things involving my government," England said, gratefully sitting down in the chair Germany offered. "As well as getting someone to stand in for me at the world meeting."

Germany nodded. "Who is standing in for you?"

England sighed heavily. "My brother, Scotland."

Germany arched an eyebrow at the way England spat out the word 'brother'. He had heard stories about England's rather poor relationship with his 'siblings', the personifications of the rest of the United Kingdom; Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. Germany had only met them a few times, and despite the fact that the encounters were brief, Germany found he couldn't entirely blame England for not getting along with them.

"I see."

Germany left the room for a moment. While England waited, he heard a crashing noise, followed by the distinctive laugh of Prussia, and Germany yelling something in German. England was tempted to get up and investigate, but quickly decided to leave whatever the problem was between the two of them.

Unfortunately, England found himself being dragged into it anyway. Prussia came into the room, still chuckling quietly to himself. Germany followed close behind, wearing a look of annoyance, and carrying a manila folder. When Prussia saw England, his grin widened.

"That was fast," Prussia said.

"Beg pardon?" England asked.

"Germany wasn't expecting you until later this evening," Prussia explained. "So, I got the awesome idea of getting the house ready, and then because I am so awesome, I-"

"Shut up," Germany said.

Prussia glanced at the clock on the wall, then at England, then back at Germany.

"Kesesese…"

There was a knock at the door. Germany muttered under his breath, slammed the folder down on the small coffee table, and went to the door. Prussia picked up the folder and handed it to England.

"Look this over," Prussia said. Then he followed Germany to the door.

Germany opened the door, and suddenly multiple people started talking at once. Almost immediately, the high-pitched, exuberant voice of Italy was heard, followed by a deeper, but also Italian-accented voice belonging to Romano. From what England could tell, Italy wanted to talk to Germany about something (probably the upcoming world meeting), while Romano issued warnings and threats directed at the German, all laced with colorful language. Prussia, meanwhile, had started prattling on about… something, while inserting the word 'awesome' as many times as he could. Lastly, Germany was trying to answer Italy's questions, but with minimal success. At some point, the door slammed shut, leaving England alone in the house, and everyone else arguing outside.

"Bloody hell…" England muttered. "Is it normally like this at Germany's house?"

With nothing else to do, England decided to take Prussia's advice and look through the folder.

* * *

The flight from JFK International Airport to Heathrow was uneventful. America fell asleep halfway through the flight, and woke up right as the plane started taxiing toward the gate. Canada, on the other hand, had brought some books in his carry-on, and read those during the flight. When the pilot had announced that they were coming in to land, Canada put his book away, spending the remainder of the flight looking out the window, watching the plane land.

Disembarking was slow. The twins' seats were towards the middle of the aircraft, but a group of people near the front was holding up the entire line. Neither America nor Canada could see them through the narrow, crowded line, but somewhere ahead a woman was yelling at her children.

Eventually, the woman got her children to cooperate, and the line began moving again. Slowly but surely, America and Canada made their way to the exit. A stewardess stood by the door, smiling and giving farewell greetings to everyone as they made their way into the terminal. She smiled and greeted America, who gave a humungous grin in response, meanwhile Canada walked past completely unnoticed. Once inside the terminal, Canada located a map of the airport on the wall, and began looking for the baggage claim area. America, ignoring the map, started walking in what he thought was the right direction.

"Alfred, baggage claim is in the other direction," Canada said, pointing. America must not have heard, because he kept walking. Letting out a sigh, Canada went after his brother. He caught up fairly quickly, and redirected the American in the right direction.

Once at the baggage claim area, it took only a few minutes for the twins' suitcases to show up in the carousel. Both suitcases were easily identifiable by the American and Canadian flags near the handles. Each twin grabbed his respective suitcase, and they headed out.

Their next issue was transportation from the airport to the meeting. Fortunately, both countries had been to enough of these meetings to know to arrange transportation beforehand. In this case, America had taken that responsibility and hired a chauffeur. Once they found him, it was a short walk to the car, and presently, they were on their way out of the airport. After what felt like several hours of driving through London traffic, America and Canada found themselves at their destination.

America took a seat in one of the chairs at the long table in the center of the meeting room. Canada wandered around the room aimlessly. Despite their earlier fears of being late, the two were actually among the handful of nations that had arrived over an hour early. Austria was having a quiet discussion with Hungary in one corner of the room. Switzerland and Liechtenstein sat quietly at the table. The rest of the nations had yet to arrive.

Over the course of the next hour, nations gradually arrived in the meeting room. However, as the minute hand of the clock neared the top of the hour, the nations began to notice something was not quite right.

The meeting was scheduled to start in a few minutes, and quite a few nations were still absent. Most notable among the absentees were England and Germany; England because he was never late to meetings and was hosting this particular one, and Germany because he was similarly punctual, and usually directed the meetings.

"I wonder what's keeping them," America mused aloud. He looked at his watch, comparing it with the time displayed on the wall clock, and doing a double take when he forgot he had forgotten to adjust his watch to the new time zone he was in.

"Maybe they're stuck in traffic," Canada suggested.

"Perhaps an unforeseen emergency," Japan said. "I can't think of any other reason for Germany or England to be late."

"It had better be an emergency," America said. "He can't just walk in here late without an excuse when he yells at us for being late all the time."

"He yells at _you_ for being late, Amérique," France corrected. "The rest of us show up on time."

"Shut it, France!" America protested.

They waited some more. Several nations would occasionally glance at their watches, or check the wall clock. America was just about to give up and try calling England's phone when the door opened, and Germany, Prussia, and the Italy brothers entered the room.

"You're not usually late, Allemagne," France said. "And Angleterre is also late. Is there something going on we don't know about?"

Germany waved the Italys away from him, and they promptly sat down at their respective places at the table. Prussia quickly followed suit.

"Well," Germany began. "England is not late. He's not coming at all."

America arched an eyebrow. "What happened to him?" he asked.

"He agreed to help me with an internal issue in my country," Germany explained. "One of his brothers will be standing in for him."

"Which one?" France asked.

At that moment, the door opened again, and a redheaded man in a blue suit walked into the room.

"Who's the ginger?" America asked loudly. The redhead glared at America, and Canada buried his face in one hand.

"I'm Scotland," the redhead replied with annoyance. "I'm standing in for my brother England today."

Scotland sat down, still glaring at America. There was an awkward pause, then Germany began to speak.

"All right, everyone is here. We can begin the meeting now…" Germany said.

"Wait a minute," France interrupted. "Not everyone is here yet. Where are Russia and the Baltics?"

"They won't be coming either. Russia said that he had important business with the Baltics that could not be delayed."

America smirked. "The commie's too busy to come here and bug us? Heh…"

"Oh, shut up, Amérique. Russia hasn't been communist for years."

Germany cleared his throat as loudly as he could. "If we could get back on topic," he said. "Let's get this meeting started…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Slight delay in the update, sorry. College... Anyway, enjoy this next chapter. Review if you like. And, as always, I don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

The world meeting was unusually productive that day, despite some of the nations' best efforts. America and Prussia were the worst offenders, but the two managed to keep reasonably calm this meeting. Germany was inwardly grateful for this; he had enough on his plate already. He quietly slipped away from the others after the meeting adjourned, and, on a whim, decided to try to contact England. However, when he dialed England's number, he got no reply other than an automated voice telling him to leave a message. Germany, figuring England was probably otherwise occupied, switched tactics and sent a text instead. He figured England would reply to that sooner or later.

"Hey, West!" Prussia called.

Germany slid the phone into his coat pocket and turned around. "Prussia," he said. "What is it?"

"France told me that we're gonna be going out for drinks in a bit," Prussia replied.

"Who's 'we'?"

"Well, just a handful of us. Let's see, France, Spain, the 'awesome me', the Italy brothers, America, and Canada. America managed to talk Japan into coming too, and China's tagging along with Japan. You're invited too."

"Thanks, Prussia. I'll be coming with you."

Several minutes later, all the nations Prussia had mentioned gathered in the lobby of the world meeting building. Germany joined them, taking one last glance at his phone to see if England had texted him back yet. When he saw nothing, he put the phone away, and joined the group in heading to a nearby pub. Said pub was within walking distance, and in short order, the group had made their way inside and were ordering their drinks.

After that, the countries split off into groups, each group taking a different table. They ended up taking three tables altogether, all near the back of the room. France, Spain and Prussia claimed the first table, while China and Japan took the second. Germany and the Italy brothers had the third. America and Canada were the last to sit; America sat next to Japan, then Canada sat on the other side of America. They spent the better part of an hour drinking and socializing. Surprisingly, none of them had gotten sufficiently drunk to make fools of themselves yet. France had already tried flirting with a few of the other patrons, but he did that often enough while sober that none of the other nations saw it as a problem. Fortunately, the other patrons didn't make a big deal out of the Frenchman's behavior either, and the evening continued on without incident.

However, right as the nations were getting ready to leave, Germany's phone finally went off. He reached into his pocket, retrieving the phone and looking slightly surprised. Germany opened the phone and answered it, only to be greeted by a long, high-pitched beeping noise.

"What the…" Germany said, staring at the phone in disbelief.

"What was that?" Prussia asked, leaning over to get a look at Germany's phone. Germany, meanwhile, was checking the number of whoever sent him the call.

"It was England…" Germany said. "But… he hung up as soon as I answered…"

"Call him back! Maybe he got a dropped call or something," America suggested.

Germany shrugged and tried redialing the number. The phone rang several times, then went to voicemail.

"He's not answering," Germany said.

"What do you mean 'he's not answering'?!" America said, rising to his feet, and going over to where Germany sat. "What's going on?"

France turned around in his chair to see what was going on. "Is Angleterre in some kind of trouble?" he asked.

"I don't know," Germany replied. He put his phone away. "Let's wait a few minutes; see if he calls back."

America reluctantly sat back down to wait. Five minutes later, Germany tried calling England again. No answer. Germany stared at his phone, nonplussed.

"Is his phone even on?" Germany wondered aloud.

"What is going on?" America demanded. "You said he was helping you with something in your country; what exactly is he doing?"

Germany clapped his phone shut and laid it on the table. He interlaced his fingers and let out a small sigh. His brows furrowed, the German stared blankly for a minute, as if contemplating his answer. Before answering, he let out another sigh, but this one was much louder than the previous one.

"I recently discovered some suspicious activity around the Brandenburg area," Germany said at last. "After a little investigating, I found an illegal drug trafficking ring."

America frowned. "So?" he said, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "That happens all the time. Why did you need England?"

"The drug ring is merely a front," Germany said. "If the police ever look there, that's all they'll find. That was _almost_ all I ever found; however, I stumbled across some disturbing documents during my latest search."

The Italy brothers were suddenly interested, and joined Germany, France and America. "What documents, Germany?" Italy asked, while Romano glared at the German, silently demanding the answer.

"I don't have them with me at the moment," Germany said. "But, they were personal profiles on several of us."

The following silence was deafening. Finally, it was broken by France.

"Which ones?" he asked.

"Myself, America and Russia," Germany replied.

"Just those three?" Italy asked.

Germany nodded. "Those were the only ones I found," he said. "They probably have more. That's where England came in. He's the best one of us at spying, so I enlisted his help to see if he could uncover more evidence, as well as find wherever their headquarters are."

"Why didn't you tell us?!" America said. "I mean, if they know who we are, isn't that something we should know?"

America's outburst was rewarded with several shocked stares.

"For once, America has a point, aru," China said. "This sounds like something that could affect all of us."

"I only just found out about it," Germany said. "The only time I could have said anything would have been at the world meeting, and I didn't want the meeting dissolving into chaos over it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" America said in an accusatory tone.

"It's not like we would have all panicked because a drug ring in Germany knows about us," Spain pointed out.

"_Ja_, but if it turns out that that's all there was, then I would be raising a false alarm," Germany replied. "I only called England because I needed a little help, and he _is_ the best at spying."

"A _little _help," Romano scoffed. "You almost got caught, didn't you."

Germany glared at Romano, but didn't say anything. Romano crossed his arms and looked smug.

"The potato bastard almost got captured in his own country," Romano said. "That's…"

"That's enough, Romano," Spain said. Romano shot the Spaniard a dirty look, but he stopped talking.

"All right, so we know what the situation is," France said, steering the discussion back on topic. "But, that still doesn't answer the question of what is going on with Angleterre, and why he's not answering his phone."

"He could be in danger," Japan said. "Germany-san, what are we going to do?"

America jumped up from his chair. "If he's in danger, then we have to rescue him!" he said.

Before he could continue, Canada quietly grabbed America's arm and pulled him back down into his chair. America shot his twin a dirty look.

"What was that for?" he demanded.

"America, calm down," Canada said. "Maybe England just has his phone off at the moment."

"But what if…"

"Quiet!"

Silence descended on the group again, and everyone turned to Germany, who had given the outburst. The German was now standing, his hands resting flat on the table.

"We have no idea what is going on with England right now, but arguing and speculating will get us nowhere!" Germany said.

"Then what do we do?" Japan asked quietly.

Germany looked contemplative for a moment. "I'll try to contact him again. If he doesn't respond by tomorrow morning, then here's what we'll do: I'll need someone else to get in touch with his brothers, and inform them of what's happening. The rest of us; since we're the only ones who know about this at the moment, will try to find him by other means."

"You mean rescue him," America corrected.

"What do we tell the other nations?" Italy asked.

"Nothing; I want to keep this investigation small. They're not involved. The only other nations that need to know are the rest of the United Kingdom."

There was a moment's pause while everyone thought over Germany's instructions. Then, seeming to have all reached a silent agreement, everyone began getting up from their chairs. Everyone except Prussia, who was downing one last swig of beer. The albino had not spoken during that whole discussion about England, and it was pretty clear why. Prussia was thoroughly drunk, and had paid absolutely no attention.

"British beer is so bland…" Prussia said in a heavily slurred German accent. He slammed the now empty drink on the table and rose unsteadily to his feet. "My beer is much more awesome…"

"Mein Gott," Germany muttered. He went over to his brother and helped steady him. Italy tried to help, but Germany waved him away. "I've got him," Germany said.

Nations began leaving the pub in twos and threes. Japan and China left first, and headed directly back to the meeting building. Spain followed the Italy brothers, who were following the two Asians. America and Canada came next, and they were trailed by France. Germany and Prussia were the last to leave. While walking, someone bumped into France. The man quickly backed up and looked apologetically at the Frenchman.

"Pardon me, Mr. Bonnefoy," the man said, before hurriedly walking past him. He passed America and Canada, tipping his hat to them.

"Mr. Jones, Mr. Williams."

Before any one of them could say anything, the man slipped into a crowd of passersby and disappeared.

"The hell was that?" America asked. Canada shrugged. The twins, unable to come up with an explanation, continued walking, pretending that hadn't happened.

"Who was that?" France muttered to himself. "And how did he know our names?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: This chapter proved tricky; some of these characters are difficult to write. If any of the characters seem a little too OOC, let me know. Also, though I always check for accuracy, there may still be mistakes in the foreign phrases. Correct me if you see any mistakes.**

**Hetalia does not belong to me. Enjoy.**

* * *

Germany had received no word from England before turning in for the night. After a quick breakfast that morning, Germany tried one last time to contact the Englishman. He was disappointed, but strangely not surprised when he got no reply yet again. And, as he reluctantly put his phone away, he couldn't help but wonder if England really was in serious trouble. England had said he would keep in touch with regular updates, but so far Germany hadn't heard a word. Then there was Japan's suggestion last night that England could probably be in danger. And, despite his idiotic hero complex, America might have had the right idea in suggesting they rescue England.

The only problem was that no one had any idea where England was. Germany only had a vague idea himself, and he wasn't sure how much good that would do. At the moment, however, Germany figured that a vague idea was better than none at all, and that he and the other nations couldn't waste any more time. It was time to make a few phone calls. Germany punched in France's number and waited for the Frenchman to pick up.

"_Oui,_ is this Germany?"

"Hello, France. I still haven't got any word from England. I'm calling everyone that was with us at that pub last night; we're going to go looking for him."

"Very well. Where are we meeting up?"

"Back at the world meeting building."

"_Trés bien._"

"Oh, and France?"

"What is it?"

"Have England's brothers been notified yet?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't called them, that's all I know."

"Right. Could you call them for me? I need to contact everyone else."

"All right…" France hung up.

As soon as France had hung up, Germany called America, telling him to meet up at the world meeting building. After America, Germany called Canada next, and told him the same thing. Germany went through the list of everyone else that had been at the pub, and eventually, he got through them all. The only one left was Prussia, but the albino was still sleeping in his hotel room bed. Germany would talk to him as soon as he got up for breakfast. In the meantime, Germany would use the time to think of a strategy for finding England. He pulled out some spare paper and a pen, and jotted down ideas.

Several minutes into the exercise, Prussia slowly rose from his bed, groaning slightly. The Prussian was a little hung over, although he would never have admitted it. He changed clothes with some difficulty, and left the room to get breakfast. Germany continued to focus on his paper and his ideas. He'd talk to Prussia when he returned.

Germany finished jotting down ideas, but Prussia still hadn't returned from breakfast. Tapping his pen idly on the table, Germany read and reread the paper. His mind raced; he was sure he had come up with the best possible plan given the circumstances, but it would require the cooperation of all the countries involved. It was that last part that had him the most worried. He knew very well how some of the countries that would be joining him didn't get along. No matter how responsibilities were divided among them, someone was bound to cause problems. America and Prussia sprang to mind immediately; as both were notoriously conceited and overly enthusiastic. It would take a miracle to keep both egos under control during this operation.

Muffled footsteps sounded from the hallway outside Germany's room. There was a thud, followed by Prussia's voice saying something in slurred German. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Prussia walked in. The albino seemed to have recovered from his hangover quite fast; he looked perfectly fine now, whereas earlier that morning, he hadn't.

"_Guten morgen, bruder,_" Germany said.

Prussia nodded. "_Guten morgen._" He walked over to where Germany was sitting. "What is that?"

"I'm trying to draw up a strategy for rescuing England," Germany replied.

Prussia picked up the paper and looked it over. He nodded thoughtfully, returning the paper to Germany. "Good, but not as awesome as my plan," Prussia said.

"Your plan?" Germany said, taken aback that Prussia had even bothered to think of a plan, given how drunk the albino had been the night before.

"It's simple," Prussia replied. "Because I am so awesome, I could just go in by myself and…"

"No."

"What?"

"That's not going to work, and you know it won't."

Prussia briefly looked offended, but then his expression suddenly looked more thoughtful. "You're right," he said. "Perhaps I could use a _little _backup…"

"You hang out with America too much. You're starting to sound like him."

Prussia laughed. "Oh, don't be silly. America's much worse than I am."

It was Germany's turn to laugh. "Not by much," he muttered. He stood up, looking serious once more. "Come on, we have to get to the world meeting building."

"What for?"

"That's where I told everyone to meet up."

Germany tucked the paper into his coat pocket and left the room, Prussia following right behind. They headed down the hall, into the hotel lobby, then outside. From there, they took a cab to the world meeting building. When they arrived, only half of the countries Germany had called earlier were already there waiting. Germany surveyed the group; the Italy brothers and the North American brothers were the ones absent.

The door opened, and Germany turned around, expecting to see either the Italys or the North American brothers. It turned out to be neither, as Scotland walked in instead, a cigarette sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Scotland?" Germany asked, nonplussed.

"Mr. Frenchie here told me that England was in trouble, and that you told him to tell me," Scotland replied.

Germany glanced over at France.

"I did what you told me to, Allemagne," France said. "Did you expect England's brothers to do nothing?"

_Given how much they hate him, I wouldn't be surprised,_ Germany thought. "Um, alright, but where are Wales and Northern Ireland?"

"Busy," Scotland said curtly.

Germany arched an eyebrow. "Fine," he said. "Then we're just waiting on the Italys and America."

"I think you're missing one," France said, starting to count on his fingers. "Yes, Canada is also missing."

"Oh," Germany said, resisting the urge to facepalm. "How did I forget? I remembered to call him earlier…"

"That's all right, it happens a lot…"

Everyone turned to face the door, where the voice had come from. Canada had just walked in. America walked in immediately after his brother.

"Hello, Canada," Germany said. "I really am sorry about that."

"No, really, it's fine," Canada insisted.

America decided to abruptly change the subject. "So, Germany," he said. "What's the plan?"

"The plan," Germany began, feeling his exasperation rising already. "Is to wait for everyone to show up first."

America shot the German a double take. "All right then," the American said. He walked over to the table and sat. Canada remained standing, looking slightly confused. He shrugged, then sat next to his brother. Minutes later, the Italy brothers walked in the door.

With everyone finally present, they all took their seats at the table. Germany withdrew some documents, including the paper he'd written on earlier, and set them on the table. He cleared his throat, ready to begin the meeting.

"These are the profiles I was talking about last night," Germany said, pushing the documents to the center of the table, allowing everyone a closer look.

America grabbed the profile on himself, looking through it. The first page contained a photo of him, and underneath it was a brief description of his physical appearance. Above the photo was the label: "The United States of America". America looked the page over on both sides, furrowing his brow as he did so. The back of the page was blank, so he looked back at the front. Underneath his description were some additional tidbits of information. In particular, he noticed this bit on his birthdate:

Official Date of Birth: 4 July 1776

Actual Date of Birth: Unknown (1607?)

America couldn't help but stare at the two dates in slight bemusement. No one ever really knew exactly when a country was born, but America was well aware that even his own government insisted on his birthdate being the 1776 date, despite knowing that he had been around since the early colonial period. Apparently, this group – whoever they were – was aware of this.

_ How much more do these people know?_ America thought, now looking through the rest of the document. The remaining pages consisted of long walls of text, occasionally separated by headings. Realizing it would take too long to try to read everything, America put the pages back in their manila folder, and handed it to Canada. Canada glanced over it, keeping his face unreadable as he did so. The folders were slowly passed around the table, and eventually they all ended up back in Germany's hands.

"As you can see, these profiles are very thorough," Germany said. "I don't know how they got this information, and I'm not sure what they plan on doing with it, but…"

"Wait a second, Germany, could I double check the profiles?" Japan asked.

"Certainly." Germany passed them down to Japan. Japan selected one, and looked through it. There was a few minutes' silence while everyone waited for Japan to find whatever it was he was looking for. When Japan finished looking through it, he looked slightly surprised, then proceeded to look through the next one. He went through that one slightly faster than he did the first one, then finally he looked through the last one. When he finished, he put the papers down.

"What is it, Japan?" Spain asked.

"These profiles are missing one piece of information on us," Japan said.

"And what piece is that?" France asked.

"Our human names."

"Seriously?" America said, reaching over and grabbing his profile again. He skimmed through it, looking for one mention of his human name, Alfred F. Jones. The name did not appear anywhere in the text. There wasn't even mention of him having any other name than his nation name.

"Ve, that is odd," Italy said.

"That doesn't guarantee that they don't know about them," Germany said.

"I don't think so, aru," China said. "If they were this thorough, why would they leave that out?"

"Point taken," Germany said. "But then, how did they miss that?"

"It's not like our human names are a bigger secret than anything else in those folders," Spain said.

"The stupid bastards probably didn't even notice while they were spying on us," Romano said.

"Of all things to overlook…" Spain continued, shaking his head. "Perhaps they didn't realize the names were connected to us specifically?"

"What do you mean?" Prussia asked.

"Could they have mistakenly assumed that Alfred F. Jones, Ludwig Beilschmidt, and Ivan Braginsky were just government officials or something? As in, they worked closely with the nations, but were not the nations themselves?" Spain said, holding up each country's respective folder when he said their names.

"It's possible," France said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "So far, that's the only thing I can think of that makes any sense, apart from them somehow never even hearing those names in the first place."

"Which is unlikely at best," Germany added.

"In any case, it seems they do not know about our human names," Japan said. "Which could prove useful. When we go looking for England, we will address each other by our human names."

Germany still looked skeptical. "Well, it's less risky than using our nation names," he admitted. "Let's do it. Now, as for how we to actually go about looking for our fellow nation…"

"What's your plan?" Prussia asked.

Germany showed everyone the paper with his handwritten plan on it. "I wrote some ideas down earlier," he said. "Here's what I've got…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: I don't think Scotland has an official human name, so I just made one up. For this fic, note that Scotland=Sean. **

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, not me. Enjoy.**

* * *

"Blast it, why won't it _fit?_"

England struggled with the stolen uniform for several minutes, and while he had no trouble getting it on, it didn't quite fit perfectly. It had been fitted by a professional tailor to specifically fit the measurements of its previous owner, as England was quickly realizing with great annoyance. Eventually, he gave up trying to force it to fit. He just hoped that the poor fit wouldn't look so out of place as to give him away while he investigated; after last night's close call, he was afraid he wouldn't get away if he was found out a second time.

On a whim, England reached into his pocket, and retrieved his phone. It was still off; he's had to hang up in the middle of a call to Germany the night before, and it had remained off ever since. However, given the huge cracks in it – the result of a rather nasty fight with some guards the night before – England wasn't sure if the phone would turn back on. He figured he'd give it a try anyway. To his surprise, the phone did indeed turn on.

"These things are more resilient than I thought," he muttered to himself. Looking at the cracked screen, England suddenly realized he hadn't been able to call Germany since last night. His odd hang-up call no doubt had the German at least a little concerned. He needed to call and give an update; aside from that brush with the guards, all was well. England started punching in Germany's number.

Before he could hit the 'call' button, however, three men wearing uniforms much like England's stolen one rounded the corner. England shoved the phone in his pocket just as the tallest of the three motioned for the other two to halt. The tall man locked gazes with England, and there was a tense pause as they stared at each other.

The longer England stared at this man, the more familiar his face looked. The lighting conditions were rather poor, and the man was wearing a helmet, which made it almost impossible to guess the man's hair color. The light also made it hard to tell eye color; the man appeared to have blue eyes, but England could have sworn he saw a slight violet tint to them. Besides all that, his uniform fit just as poorly as England's. England had seen this man somewhere before; he was sure of it.

"Who are you? Where is the rest of your group?" one of the other men demanded of England. The man leveled his gun at him, but the tall man motioned for him to stand down.

"I know this man," the tall man said in a German accent that was so thick, England felt like he was faking it. "This is Charles."

_Charles? Who is Charles?_ England wondered, trying hard not to let his confusion show.

Whoever Charles was, he must have been someone important, because the other guard put his gun down immediately. He still looked suspicious, however.

"But… isn't that…" the guard said.

"It is," the tall man cut him off. "I believe we're done here. We need to continue our rounds."

With that, the two guards resumed walking, but the tall man lingered until the other two had overtaken him. When the two guards had disappeared around the next corner, the tall man approached England.

"Their mind games are cute, da?" the man said, dropping his fake German accent, replacing it with a much more authentic Russian one. He then followed the other two guards out of sight, leaving a bewildered England alone in the dimly lit corridor.

England stood practically frozen in place for a good minute. He debated with himself whether to follow those guards, or keep going on the route was already on. The decision was made for him when he heard the sound of gunfire and angry German swearing coming from the direction the three guards had gone. There were rapid footsteps and more shouting coming from the opposite direction. Quickly weighing his options, England pulled out his handgun and ran in the direction of the gunfire. The group coming from the other direction caught up with him, but they ignored him. Once they all overtook him, England quietly turned around and headed in the opposite direction. Eventually he found a door, and when England found it unlocked, he opened it.

"Dammit, where did that Braginsky go?!" someone shouted from down the corridor as the gunfire ceased.

England stepped into the room and closed the door. Somehow or other, Russia's cover had been blown. However, there was absolutely nothing England could do about that. He could only let Russia's blown cover serve as a fortuitous diversion while he continued his investigation. Although, he decided he needn't worry about his fellow nation's well-being. This was Russia after all. He'd be fine.

However, once they both got out of this, Russia would have a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

Germany and the other ten nations took a flight from London to Berlin, and from there had to rent three cars. Germany and Prussia handled that job while everyone else waited. Once they had the vehicles, everyone split into three groups. Germany, America, Canada, and Italy got into one car, while France, Prussia, Spain, and Romano had the second car. Scotland, Japan and China had the last car. Germany drove the first car, leading the way to their destination, while the other two cars followed; Prussia driving the second car, and Japan the third.

Eventually, the three cars made it out of the Berlin area, and were well on their way to Brandenburg. It was strangely silent in all three cars; most of the nations were quietly going over Germany's plan and instructions in their heads. For once, everyone was too focused to make conversation.

Later, Germany's car arrived in the Brandenburg area. He spent several minutes navigating the traffic before finally pulling into the parking lot of an upscale hotel. The group got out of the car. Germany locked the car and led everyone inside to wait in the hotel lobby. America, Canada, and Italy immediately took seats in the comfortable chairs provided, while Germany remained standing. The German pulled a map of the area out of his coat pocket, showing the other three where they currently were on the map.

"It was here," Germany said, pointing to a location not far away from the hotel. "That I think the entrance is hidden. That's most likely the way Arthur used to get in, unless he found another entrance."

The front door of the hotel opened, and Prussia's group walked in. They quickly went over to join Germany's group, while Prussia went to the front desk and began conversing with the clerk in German. Germany, meanwhile, continued to debrief the other nations.

"There's a lot of security there; cameras, guards - the works," Germany said. "Kiku will disable the cameras, but we still need to force our way past the guards…"

"That shouldn't be too difficult," France commented.

"Remember, not all of us are going in at once," Spain cautioned.

Germany nodded. "As soon as Gilbert finishes talking to the clerk, I'll show you what we're going to do."

"What's he doing, anyway?" America asked.

"Getting rooms for everyone. It's not likely we'll need them, but if we do, we're prepared," Germany explained.

The group relaxed in their chairs and made idle conversation while they waited for Prussia. It proved to be a short wait, and presently the group was following Germany back outside. Before they went past the parking lot, Germany checked his watch and looked around.

"What's the problem, Ludwig?" Italy asked.

"Why are Kiku, Yao, and Sean not here yet?" Germany said.

"Um… maybe they got lost?" America suggested.

"I don't see how; they should have been following us the whole way here," Prussia said.

"Hold on, I'll give them a call," France said. He pulled his phone out and dialed Japan's number.

"Guys, they probably just got stuck in traffic…" Canada said.

Unfortunately, everyone else ignored his comment. He turned around and paced slowly, only partially paying attention to what was going on. France's voice was heard; apparently Japan had picked up. Meanwhile, Canada heard a muffled crash coming from the building next door. He took a few hesitant steps in that direction, thinking to investigate. There was another crash, and Canada stopped, turning around to see if any of the other countries had noticed. They hadn't; all their attention was focused on the conversation France was having with Japan.

"Um, guys…"

Unsurprisingly, Canada was ignored again. He shrugged.

_Why does no one ever notice me? _Canada thought idly, resuming his pacing. _Wait a minute… if no one ever sees me…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: I had so much fun writing this part. It's a bit early, but the situation was so clear in my head that I got it written down so much faster.**

**I still don't own Hetalia. Who here is actually surprised?**

**Anyway, enjoy an early update. **

* * *

The only objects in this room were a desk, a laptop sitting closed on top of the desk, and two chairs. England glanced around the walls, noticing how completely bare they were. He went over to the desk and opened the laptop. The screen lit up and displayed a two small text boxes in the center; one for entering the login, and the other for the password. England hesitated. While he was without doubt the best spy of all the nations, Japan and America were better with computers. Either one of them could probably hack into this laptop, but since neither one was here, England decided he may as well try to do it himself. He put his hands to the keyboard.

Meanwhile, the firefight outside was gradually moving further and further down the hall, away from England. Eventually, the shouting and gunfire stopped entirely, and England briefly looked up from the computer, listening to the sudden silence. He half expected to hear more footsteps coming his way, but when none did, he returned his attention to his task.

After the third "Access Denied" screen, England heard voices outside. The first voice said something in German, but the response was in English.

"We've swept the entire complex. Ivan Braginsky was never even in here. It was a false alarm."

The first voice swore in German.

"Sir?" said the second voice.

Several men came running down the hallway, stopping only a few paces outside the room England was hiding in. England closed the laptop, not wanting the light of the screen to attract attention. He retreated into the darkest corner of the room and continued to listen in. The first voice issued orders in German, and footsteps took off in both directions down the corridor.

"Hold it," the first voice said, presumably to whoever was still outside with him. "Contact Charles. If Russia's here, then at least one of the nations, possibly more, knows what we're doing. We'll need to change plans accordingly."

"Yes sir."

England's eyebrows shot up. There was that name Charles again, who apparently was important to whatever to these people were doing. And, for whatever reason, Russia had introduced England to the other guards with him as Charles. It occurred to England that the move had been a hint from Russia on what to do. If England could convince this group that he was this Charles person, he'd be able to gain information from the inside with ridiculous ease. But if that were the case, why hadn't Russia pretended to be Charles himself? A crucial piece of information was missing, and England wasn't sure what it was.

While England had been thinking this over, the two voices had retreated back down the corridor. Cautiously approaching the door, England eased it open and peered outside. The corridor was empty.

_What do I do now?_ England thought, glancing back at the laptop on the desk. As of right now, he had three options that he could see: Continue trying to hack the laptop, pursue those voices, or continue investigating further down the corridor.

_I'll have to try the laptop again later,_ he decided, and took off down the corridor, in the opposite direction the voices had gone.

* * *

Canada made his way into the building unnoticed. He closed the door, then looked out a nearby window to see if the other countries had noticed his absence yet. Predictably, they hadn't. Canada turned around and made his way further into the building.

It looked well maintained, but the fact that there was absolutely nothing on the shelves, and no clerk at the desk made the place look like it had been abandoned. Canada made his way over to the desk, inspecting it, but he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. When he found nothing, he abandoned the desk, looking instead at the shelves. Again, Canada found nothing of interest. He was about to leave when he heard the muffled crashing again.

The crashes somehow sounded louder; closer, inside this building. And they no longer sounded quite like crashes; Canada thought he heard the sound of gunfire mixed in. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds and where they were coming from. Reopening his eyes, Canada realized they were coming from under the floor ahead of him.

_Maybe this place has a cellar somewhere,_ Canada thought. He poked around the empty room again, trying to find something that looked like an entrance to a cellar. Upon checking the shelves again, Canada noticed one of them was not properly nailed in place. He toyed with it a bit, and it detached from the wall. Arching one eyebrow slightly, Canada surveyed his handiwork. He set the detached piece of shelf on the desk and looked closely at the part of wall the piece had detached from. Canada's eyebrow went a little higher.

_A doorbell? Why is it hidden behind a shelf?_

Canada pushed the doorbell, but it made no sound. He shouldn't have been too surprised, if it had been hidden behind a shelf, it was unlikely to have been used for quite some time, and thus no longer worked. Ignoring the doorbell, Canada turned around and looked at the desk again.

_Something's different about the desk…_

Kneeling down, Canada inspected the desk. The desk itself had not changed; the odd thing Canada had noticed about the desk; he realized, was that it had moved. It had moved a good six inches away, seemingly on its own. Canada raised an eyebrow, putting his hands on the top of the desk. He pushed hard, but the desk did not move. Switching tactics, Canada attempted to lift it. No such luck there either. Idly, he wondered if America would have had similar trouble. Something told him that America probably could not have lifted it either, at least, not without damaging it. Canada leaned down, looking closely at the legs of the desk and pulling at them slightly. He got back up, staring in bemusement.

_Is it attached to the floor?_ He wondered, taking a step back toward the shelves. Canada pushed the doorbell again, keeping an eye on the desk. He watched in shock as it slid back to its original spot all on its own. After pushing it again, the desk moved away again.

Canada knelt down again. There had to be something more to this bizarre moving desk; something that could only be accessed or seen when it was moved to this spot. After a few moments searching, Canada found it. A six-inch by six-inch keypad was barely visible on the floor. On this keypad were indentations – buttons, presumably – numbered from 0 to 9.

_Couldn't hurt to try, could it?_

Canada began pushing buttons. For several minutes, nothing happened. He was just about to give up when he felt the ground move underneath him. Thinking it was an earthquake, Canada put both hands over his head and held still under the desk. It took him a second to realize the floorboards he was kneeling on were actually moving; sliding underneath the desk, in fact. In a brief millisecond of panic, Canada scrambled to get out from under the desk. Once he recovered, he looked at the newly made gap in the floor. Several floorboards had disappeared under the desk, and now there was an opening large enough for a man to fit into. Canada looked into the hole, and saw what appeared to be concrete floor. Further down this new passage was some kind of light source; Canada could see the flickering light on the floor.

_This must be the entrance then,_ Canada mused. He paused for a moment, debating with himself. Then, mind made up, Canada lowered himself into the hole.

He took a few steps into the passage, but froze when he heard sounds of movement above him. He looked up; the floorboards were sliding back into place. Wondering how he was going to get back out, Canada decided there was probably more than one way in and out of this place. If there wasn't, there still had to be a way to get those floorboards to move from this side. He would just have to worry about that later.

Canada briefly considered going further down the passage, but remembered the process by which he had gained entrance. During the briefing, Germany had mentioned security cameras and armed guards being near the entrance, and Canada had found neither of these in that building. Perhaps this meant that there was more than one entrance? But if that were the case, it stood to reason that there should have been cameras and guards at this entrance. It occurred to Canada that maybe this wasn't the entrance after all. He looked back at the ceiling, contemplating how to get those floorboards out of the way so he could get back out.

His thinking was interrupted by voices further down the passage. Canada retreated to the shadows as he realized the voices were getting closer, holding absolutely still when he saw the owners of the voices come into view. They were both tall and burly men, wearing vaguely militaristic uniforms; neither one bore any recognizable insignia, not even so much as a country flag. Both men were conversing in German.

Canada waited until they disappeared around the corner, then emerged from the shadows and went in the direction they had just come from. He went quite some distance before hearing more voices, this time in English. Canada looked for more shadows to hide in, but these new arrivals came around the corner before Canada had the time to adequately hide himself. Not that it seemed to matter; these men didn't notice Canada's presence at all. One of the men was on the phone; the other one seemed to be listening intently to the conversation, and looked rather irritated.

"I thought you said you had gone to the United States for…" the one on the phone said, trailing off. Apparently the man on the other end had interrupted him.

"Really? Both of them?" the one with the phone said, his expression quickly changing to one of shock. "Well, do you know why?"

There was a pause. Then the man with the phone suddenly relaxed. "Oh, well, if that's all…"

Another pause. Then, "Yes sir. Then what is the new plan?"

Much longer pause. The man with the phone slowly started to look worried again.

"Yes sir." He hung up.

"Well?" said the irritated-looking man.

Canada started slowly backing away from the two men as the other answered.

"Whichever one we can capture first."

The irritated man nodded. "There's only one in our reach at the moment," he said, drawing a handgun from the holster at his waist. "Come on."

The two men started running. Canada watched them as they ran until he could no longer see them. Then he ran in the opposite direction. He kept running until he found a door. It was unlocked, so Canada let himself in, checking to make sure the room was empty. It was, save for a desk, a computer, and a couple of chairs. Canada took a seat in one and pulled out his phone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: This part was fun, if a little bit difficult to write. It'll get_ really_ fun soon, what with the shenanigans to come in the next few chapters.**

**Don't own Hetalia; never did, never will. Enjoy.**

* * *

At long last, Scotland, Japan and China pulled into the hotel parking lot. The three quickly exited the car, Japan offering apologies for being late. Germany assured him that it wasn't a problem, and ushered him, China and Scotland over to join the rest of the group.

"Everyone's here; now we can get started," Germany said. "All right, the entrance is this way…"

Germany started walking, and the rest of the group followed him. They passed the building Canada had gone into, stopping after rounding the street corner.

"Separate into your assigned groups," Germany instructed.

Italy, Prussia, France and America went to stand next to Germany, while Japan, China, Scotland, Spain and Romano got into a group.

"Something's not right here," France said, looking at the two groups.

"We shouldn't be missing anyone, aru," China said.

"Let's do a quick headcount," Germany said. He quickly counted everyone there. Furrowing his brow, he counted again. "What the… we're missing someone…"

America looked around. "There were eleven of us, right?"

"Yes. At the moment, there's only ten," Germany replied.

Everyone looked around.

"Where is Matthew?" France asked.

"Mattie? He was right… here…" America said, gesturing at where he was sure Canada was standing, then doing a double take when he realized Canada was not there. He frowned, confused. "Where did he go?"

At that moment, America's cell phone rang. Startled, he jumped slightly, then reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone. A bemused smirk came on his face when he noticed the name on the caller ID. He answered the phone.

"Mattie? Where are you dude?" America said.

"I'm inside their base, hiding in a-"

"What?!" America exclaimed. The other nations shot him a surprised look.

"Alfred, could we have it on speaker please?" Japan asked. "We'd like to know what's going on too."

America nodded, and pushed the speaker button. "How the heck did you get past their security?" he asked Canada.

"Um… there wasn't any…" was the reply. Several nations' eyebrows shot up.

America's jaw dropped. "Are… are you sure?"

"Yeah, there were no cameras or guards. Just this weird mechanism with a moving desk, and a passcode…"

"Where is this desk?"

"In the building right next to the hotel we were in."

Germany frowned. "That can't be right," he said. "The entrance is over there…" He gestured to a different location on the map.

"No one said there had to be only one entrance," France pointed out. "It seems Mathieu has found a different way in; one that doesn't have as much security around it."

"Okay," America said. "Right, Mattie, what's the passcode for this desk thingie?"

"Well," Canada began. "First, you have to move the desk. There's a doorbell-like button hidden in the wall behind the shelves next to the desk. Push it, and the desk will move back, showing the keypad for entering the passcode. The passcode itself is 3276654. After that, the floorboards will move, revealing the entrance."

"Thanks, bro." America was about to hang up, but Germany stopped him.

"Hold it, before you hang up, have you seen Arthur yet?" Germany asked.

"No, I haven't. Should I keep looking for him, or wait – uh oh…"

"What's wrong?" Germany asked.

There was no reply, except for a short beeping noise, followed by a dialtone. Canada had hung up.

"Hey!" America said, redialing Canada's number. The call went to voicemail.

"This can't be good, aru," China said.

France pulled out his phone and tried calling Canada himself. He got the same result America did. America shoved his phone in his pocket, and was about to go running off into the building, but Germany grabbed his arm, trying to stop him.

"Calm yourself!" Germany commanded. "There is no need to panic!"

"Mattie's in danger!" America said, slowly pulling out of Germany's grip. "We've got to go rescue him!"

"We _will_ rescue him!" Germany said. "But we need to keep our heads, otherwise we'll be captured as well!"

At that, America seemed to calm down a little. Germany released America's arm.

"Here's what we will do," Germany said. "We stay in our two groups, but one will go looking for Matthew, and the other will look for Arthur. As soon as one group finds the person they're looking for, they should contact the other group as soon as possible. Agreed?"

The nations all nodded their agreement.

"Which group is looking for Matthew, and which one is looking for Arthur?" Italy asked.

"I'm looking for Arthur," Scotland said. "I need to scold him for getting us into this mess."

Prussia snickered. "So, that leaves my group in charge of finding Matthew," he said.

"_Your_ group?" Romano said. "Who put you in charge?"

"I am the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt!" Prussia said triumphantly. "I did!"

"Shut up," Germany said. "But, yes, our group will be looking for Matthew."

With the matter finally settled, the nations headed into the abandoned building. They located the button on the wall, pushed it, and the desk moved back just like Canada had said it would. America then entered the passcode. The floorboards moved, and one by one, the nations went inside.

* * *

It didn't take long for England to find another door while going down the corridor. Looking through the window, he noticed several brightly lit screens on the walls inside, but when he tried the door, it was locked. There was a keypad on the wall next to the door handle. England tried guessing the passcode, and began pushing buttons.

He had only pushed one button, however, when a computerized voice began speaking.

"Scanning…" it said.

England took a step back. _Scanning what?_ he wondered. _Is this also a fingerprint scanner or something?_ He backed away further, wondering if his messing with this keypad and/or scanner was going to set off an alarm and give away his position.

"Scan complete. Access granted." There was a clicking noise signaling that the door had been unlocked.

_What?_

England stared at the door, nonplussed. Cautiously, he took the door handle, easing the door open. He stepped inside, closing the door after him, still trying to figure out what just happened. If it was indeed both a keypad and a fingerprint scanner, why had it granted him access? Part of him wanted to take advantage of the opportunity, but at the same time, this whole thing smelled like a trap. After a moment's consideration, England decided it was worth the risk to keep investigating. If he got discovered, he could just fight his way out.

He made his way over to the nearest screen, which, at the moment, was blank. Noting the keyboard jutting out from the wall, England pushed a random key, and the screen changed. On the left side of the screen was a long list of the nations, in alphabetical order. On the right side, a photo was displayed of whichever nation was currently selected. At the moment, the nation showing onscreen was Lithuania.

When England clicked on the photo, the screen changed again, displaying a profile similar to the ones he had already seen in the folder Germany had given him before sending him here. There was one crucial difference, however.

"Human name: Toris Laurinaitis," England read aloud from the top of the document. Furrowing his brow, England went back to the list, this time selecting Russia. He checked the profile. At the top, it read: "Human name: Ivan Braginsky".

As England recalled, the profile on Russia from that folder Germany showed him had lacked a human name. Apparently, Russia's human name was a very recent discovery – unless that folder Germany found was extremely outdated. England decided to check everyone else's profiles. Every single one had a human name listed.

_That's odd,_ England thought._ Why were the human names missing from that folder then? Was it an outdated folder?_

England had to admit, that didn't seem like a very plausible explanation. The only alternative that he could think of, however, made his blood run cold.

_Could it have been a deliberate move to try to deceive us?_

If that were the case, then perhaps they had intended for that folder to fall into Germany's hands from the start. England racked his brains, trying to figure out why they would pull such a dangerous gambit. These people were either very confident in whatever their plan was, or incredibly stupid. Knowing better than to underestimate an opponent, England decided it was best to go with the former, and assume he was dealing with an extremely competent and dangerous enemy. As such, it was vitally important that England gather as much information on them as he could. He began pushing buttons on the keyboard.

Somehow, amid the button-pushing, England came to a screen labeled "Non-Nation Personifications/Unusual Cases". On the left was another list. Out of curiosity, England scrolled down the list to see what was on it. He found things like Japan's prefectures and America's states, but what really caught his eye was that Prussia was on this list, and not the other one.

"What the…" England muttered, clicking on Prussia's picture.

Prussia's profile appeared, and his human name, Gilbert Beilschmidt, appeared at the top, just like all the other profiles. England didn't see anything that distinguished it from the other nations.

England stared at the screen. There had to be other information in here than just research on the nations. For instance, what did this group intend to do with this information, and where were they hiding their plans? England kept looking. Eventually, he came to a screen that looked much like a typical computer desktop, with folders scattered all over the screen. At the bottom was a folder labeled "Charles".

_This name seems to be showing up an awful lot lately,_ England thought. He opened the folder.

The first thing England saw was what appeared to be a British drivers' license. The photo on the license depicted a middle-aged, brown haired individual with forest green eyes. Under that were several other documents; a British passport, birth certificate, and a degree from Oxford. At first glance, the documents looked innocuous enough, until England realized the name shown was Brandon James Ferguson. The name was unfamiliar, but it also did not have the name Charles in there anywhere.

_Maybe Charles is his alias,_ England thought. _Or, it's his real name, and these documents are fake._

England continued to look through the folder, but couldn't find anything else of use. He closed the folder, and was about to open a different one when he heard the door opening behind him. England whirled around, drawing his handgun as he did so.

"My goodness, that was fast," the new arrival said, looking surprised, and, strangely enough, impressed.

England paid no attention, and advanced toward the man. The man's expression quickly changed to a frown, and he reached for his own gun.

"Sir?" the man asked.

England tackled the man, knocking the gun out of his hands. He seized the gun, whacking the man over the head with it, effectively knocking him unconscious. England holstered the stolen gun, then hoisted the unconscious man up, looking for somewhere to hide him. The sound of voices just outside the door, however, made England decide to just leave the man on the floor and make a run for it.

Where he would run to, England wasn't quite sure. From what he could guess, the guards had gotten riled up again – probably Russia's fault – and England just needed somewhere to hide until things quieted down again. However, sooner or later, someone would find the unconscious guard in that room with the computers. England just hoped they would just blame Russia for that as well; that way, England would be able to resume his work undetected.

As he was thinking this, England ran down the corridor. He was sure this area was devoid of other people, but as he ran, he ran headlong into someone and they both fell to the floor. England scrambled to his feet, gun drawn. He lowered it immediately when he saw who he had run into.

"Canada?!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Fight scenes are fun. And yes, things are going to get very confusing (lol Russia), but it will all make sense later. I promise.**

**Hetalia is not mine, we already know this. Enjoy.**

* * *

It took a few seconds for Canada and England to get over their initial shock. England slowly put his gun away, and Canada timidly offered an apology for running into him.

"No no, that's quite all right," England said. "I'm fine, but… what are you doing here?"

"We're here to rescue you," Canada explained.

England raised an eyebrow. "We?" he asked. "Who's 'we'?"

"A few of the other nations," Canada said.

"Which ones?"

Canada began counting on his fingers as he listed countries. "Myself, America, Germany, Prussia, Italy, Romano, Spain, France, Japan, China, and Scotland."

England's eyebrows shot up further. "A few?!"

Canada nodded.

"Well, where are they?" England asked.

"I… went in ahead of them," Canada explained. "They should be down here shortly."

"Oh no…" England said.

"What's the problem?" Canada asked.

"I think they're going to be walking right into a trap," England said.

"Are you sure?"

"Quite. I think this organization deliberately lured us in here. We need to get out. Now."

Without waiting for a response from Canada, England took off. Canada pulled his phone out and followed England, pushing buttons as he ran. He had just pushed the call button when England came to an abrupt halt. Canada held the phone to his ear and looked up at England to see what he was doing, nearly dropping his phone when he saw what was going on.

They had just run into a handful of armed guards. One had his gun leveled at England's face, barking orders for the Englishman to put his hands up.

"Mattie?!" came the sound of America's voice on Canada's phone.

"Hey Al…" Canada said distractedly. He kept his attention mostly focused on England and the guards, but he also tried to listen to America. It seemed Canada had not yet been seen by the guards, so that meant Canada could stay on the phone. That was a very good thing, because at the moment, he and England were in desperate need of backup.

Canada thought he heard America speaking again, but most of what he said was drowned out by the sound of gunfire. England had fired on the guards.

"Hey, what-" came America's voice over the phone.

Canada backed away from the firefight, switching his phone to his left hand. "We're in the middle of a fight, can you guys hurry over here and help us out?" Canada said.

"Alright, where-" America began, but was cut off by what sounded like France shouting something about following the sound of the gunfire. Other voices were heard in the background, but it was impossible to tell what they were saying. A second later, America hung up.

Canada pocketed the phone in time for England to take out the last guard. England then knelt down and picked up one of their guns, tossing it to Canada.

"There's going to be more guards on the way," England said. "They could arrive any second."

England cautiously walked a little ways along the corridor, checking to see if more guards were indeed coming. As soon as he saw the reinforcements, he swore colorfully and sprinted back in Canada's direction.

"There's too many of them," England said. "We need somewhere to hide."

Canada didn't need to be told twice. He sprinted after England, keeping an eye out for somewhere the two of them could hide or use for cover. They made their way back to the room with the desk and laptop. England put the laptop on the floor in the corner, then began pushing the table. Canada moved the chairs. Once all three pieces of furniture were in place, barricading the door, England and Canada hid themselves off to the side, guns at the ready.

* * *

Meanwhile, right after he had hung up, America had taken off at full sprint in the direction of the gunfire. France and Germany were both yelling at him to wait for the rest of the group, but the American didn't seem to be paying attention. He was also running so fast that even Italy was having difficulty keeping up. Eventually, the rest of America's group gave up on trying to keep up, figuring they would run into him again once they found Canada.

America rounded the corner and promptly ran into someone. He quickly pushed himself off of the other person. Before he could take off, however, another person tackled America from behind. America spun and ran backwards, slamming his attacker into the wall. He then pulled his gun out, but the original person he had run into had moved. America heard a door slamming shut somewhere to his left, and he took off in that direction. He found the door and yanked it open, only to be greeted with a blow to the face by a blunt, metallic object. The attacker then seized America by the arm and dragged him inside the room.

The door slammed shut again, and America began firing his gun, despite not being able to clearly see his target. He heard several different screams, which told him that there multiple enemies in this room. America spun around, this time seeing the metallic object in time to block it with his left arm. He attempted to grab it, but it was pulled away too quickly. America looked up at the owner of the object, and felt a fresh wave of anger wash over him.

Staring him right in the face was Russia.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" America spat, cocking his gun again.

Russia did not answer, and the guards renewed their attack on the American. A few gunshots later, and two of the guards lay dead on the floor. Two more guards tackled America, but were easily thrown off. America wasn't even bothering to keep his absurd strength in check right now; he tossed guards about like ragdolls, furiously trying to get at Russia. At some point, America took a bullet wound to the side, but barely noticed it in his fury. Finally, when he thought he had a clear shot at Russia, he lunged, seizing his enemy by the collar.

Russia was unfazed. "This is unfortunate," he said, keeping his face unreadable.

"What is?" America demanded, not noticing a pair of guards that had gotten back to their feet, and were now heading towards him and Russia.

"This," Russia said, and punched America in the jaw.

America let go of Russia and staggered backwards. Before America could recover, the two guards seized America's arms, and Russia walked slowly toward the American, brandishing his water pipe. America looked up just in time to be whacked one last time on the side of the head. He collapsed, unconscious. The guards then began to drag America to the back of the room, where there was another door.

"Wait," Russia told the guards. "You two go back to your stations. I'll take him."

"But sir…"

Russia gave them a glare that brooked no disagreement. The two guards left America on the floor and went out the door that Russia had dragged America through earlier in the fight. Russia picked up America in a fireman's carry, opened the other door, and left the room.

"Sorry, comrade, but I didn't have much of a choice," Russia said, after making sure he was out of earshot, dropping the fake accent he had used with the guards.

Russia came to the end of the corridor, arriving at a door labeled "Infirmary". He opened the door, went inside, deposited America on one of the beds, then promptly left.

One of the nurses who had happened to see this did a double take, her glance switching from America to the door, and back again. She went over to America's side, checking his injuries. Noticing the blood on the bomber jacket, she removed the jacket, looking for the injury. Her eyebrows shot up when she found the bullet wound, which was already starting to heal. She called one of the doctors over.

* * *

In a different area of the base, Japan's group had so far managed to proceed without incident. However, they could not ignore the muffled sounds of fighting.

"Did you hear that, aru?" China said.

"_Hai._ Gunfire," Japan replied. "It seems our friends have found the enemy."

"Or the enemy found them," Spain said.

"And they'll probably find us, too, if you bastards can't keep your mouths shut," Romano said.

Scotland rolled his eyes. The Italian probably didn't realize the irony of his statement, but no one was going to point it out to him. The ensuing argument would probably have gotten loud enough to attract unwanted attention from guards, which was the last thing they needed. For the moment, Scotland decided it was best to bite his lip and not say a thing to the other nations. His goal was to find his brother, and get out; the sooner the better.

Fortunately, the group quieted down when no one responded to Romano's statement. The group's conversation wasn't the only thing that quieted down, however. Judging from the eerie silence, it seemed the firefight had – at least temporarily – ceased. Right now, the only sound anyone could hear was their footfalls on the cold stone floor.

_I'm not sure I like this silence,_ Scotland thought. _It's a little too quiet…_

Japan held up one hand, signaling a halt. Everyone froze. The sounds of footsteps continued, however. There were guards nearby. Japan swiftly but silently drew his katana. China produced a wok from his backpack. Romano pulled out his gun, while Spain got out a battle axe. Where he had been hiding it, no one was quite sure.

Scotland, meanwhile, pulled out his gun. He glanced at Spain and his battle axe._ Now I wish I'd brought my claymore…_ Scotland thought. _Ah well. This gun'll have to do._

The group stood still, weapons at the ready. They waited for a tense few minutes until the footsteps finally faded, and the area was silent again. Everyone relaxed, and Japan signaled the group to begin moving again. They made their way to the end of the corridor, and rounded the corner. Given how dangerous and uncertain this place was, they should have expected what met them around the corner.

Romano reacted first, with a long string of expletives, in both English and Italian.

"You said it, laddie," Scotland said sarcastically, raising his gun, firing at the huge company of guards standing in front of him and the group. Japan, China and Spain then charged, one following right after the other. Romano finally recovered, and began firing his gun as well.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: I think I'll use something different for page breaks from now on. This new way should be easier to see, hopefully. Also, more fight scenes. Yay!**

**I do not own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

The sounds of guards shouting got steadily louder while Canada and England waited. It was almost impossible to tell what the guards were saying; there were so many talking at once, and not all of them were speaking in English. Every now and again, however, tiny snippets could be heard out of the cacophony.

"– they went this way – "

"– enemy reinforcements on the other side – "

"– get to the infirmary – "

"– Russia sighted near the– "

"– try this door – "

A loud crashing noise was heard, and the door England and Canada were hiding behind shook violently. The two nations aimed their guns at the door, ready to fire on anyone who entered. Their barricade would only delay the enemy by several seconds, but that was all England and Canada really needed to get a clear shot.

Another crash, and the door shook again, but still held in place. England glanced at the small window on the door, and noticed one of the guards was looking inside. The guard turned around and shouted something in German. There was a few seconds' pause, and the attack on the door resumed. After one final violent crash, the door was knocked off its hinges, and pushed into the barricade. Several guards came into view, trying to push the barricade out of the way.

England and Canada seized their chance. Each one took careful aim at a target and fired. Two guards screamed in pain and fell backwards. Another guard came up, and instead of trying to clear the barricade, he began firing a machine gun indiscriminately into every corner of the room, narrowly missing the nations. Both had to back away from the door temporarily, but England leapt up and emptied a couple rounds into the guard's chest, then retreated back to his original spot.

"There's two nations in there!" someone shouted.

"What?! Just how many are running around in here?!"

"Doesn't matter! Get them out of there! I don't care how!"

More guards came to the door. Canada and England opened fire again before any guards could jump over the barricade. As the two nations were reloading, England heard more yelling, but this time it was in French. Gunfire rang out, and, judging by the silence that followed, the last of the guards had been taken out.

"Arthur! Mathieu!" France's voice called out.

England and Canada slowly made their way over the barricade and into the corridor. They picked their way over the bodies of dead guards, and were soon greeted by France, Germany, Italy and Prussia.

"I was wondering when you lot would show up," England said. "Wait a minute, where is America?"

"He ran ahead of us," France replied. "I thought he was already over here…"

"I haven't seen him," England said.

The nations started searching the immediate area, looking for the American nation. England and Canada also tried calling America's phone, but got no reply.

"I want to say that the stupid git just got lost, but that doesn't explain why he's not answering his phone," England said, shoving his own phone back into his pocket.

"He might be otherwise occupied," France suggested. "If he got lost, then ran into some more guards elsewhere…"

"If that's the case, then all we have to do is wait for him to call back," Germany said. "But, somehow, I doubt that's the case. And, I'm getting this feeling of déjà vu…"

"Are you saying America's in trouble, and we have to rescue him?" Italy asked.

Prussia threw his hands in the air. "By the time we rescue one nation, another one needs rescuing…" he said.

"Ve, this is America we're talking about," Italy said. "He's probably fine."

"I doubt that," England said. "Especially with Russia wandering around… what if they ran into each other?"

Germany shot England a double take. "Wait a minute… did you say_ Russia_ was here?"

England nodded. "I ran into him earlier; he was wearing a stolen guard uniform. Not sure what he's up to, though."

"How do you know he stole it?" Prussia asked.

England tugged on the sleeve of the stolen uniform he was wearing. "These are specially tailored uniforms. The uniform Russia was wearing obviously was not tailored to him; it fit him just as poorly as this one fits me."

"That is odd…" Germany said. "But that's not our priority at the moment. We need to find America. Come on."

"Where do we begin looking, Allemagne?" France asked.

"If he did indeed get lost, he's probably nearby," Germany said. "We need to check the surrounding area."

Germany took off, and everyone else followed.

* * *

xXx

* * *

A bespectacled, blond man in a white lab coat came to the nurse's side.

"Look, sir, it's the United States of America," she said. "Can you believe our luck?"

"That certainly is incredible," the man said, kneeling down to get a closer look at America.

The nurse took out a syringe filled with clear fluid. "We need to administer this right away," she said.

"I'll do it," the man said, taking the syringe from her and waving her away. "Go get an IV drip, sutures, and some bandages."

The nurse looked mildly offended, but left without protest. Once she was gone, the bespectacled man set the syringe down and withdrew some cotton swabs and a small container of rubbing alcohol from his coat pocket. He rolled the sleeves of America's shirt up a little way past the elbow. As he began swabbing America's arm, a short, teenage boy came over, dressed in oversized scrubs. The bespectacled man handed the syringe to the boy, who quickly pocketed the syringe and left the room again. The man then withdrew an empty syringe from his coat pocket and set it aside. He got up and discarded the cotton swabs just in time for the nurse to return with the materials requested.

"Did you administer it?" she asked.

"Yes," the man lied.

"Good."

The pair then set about putting the IV in America's arm. Once that was done, they began treating America's injuries, but they ended up not having to do much there, as the injuries were nearly fully healed already.

"Shall we move him then?" the nurse said.

"Why? He seems fine; we can just leave him here," the man replied.

The nurse nodded and left. The man sat down and pulled a phone out his pants pocket. He entered a brief text, then put the phone away. A few minutes later, the nurse returned, this time accompanied by four security guards. The bespectacled man rose quickly to his feet.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Where is your friend?" the nurse said in a demanding tone.

"Beg pardon?" the man asked, looking confused.

"Nice try," the nurse said. "But you know who I'm talking about. Where is he?"

The man shook his head. "I swear I don't know what you're talking about."

The security guards seized him.

"Hey! What's going on here?" the man demanded.

The nurse stepped closer. "I'm only going to ask one more time," she said threateningly. "Where is Russia?"

"I don't know!"

The nurse sighed heavily. "I thought as much… sedate him."

* * *

xXx

* * *

"Do these people ever run out of guards?!" Scotland said as he fired the last shot in his clip. He dug in his pockets for additional ammunition while Spain covered for him.

"At least we're making some progress," Spain said, whacking some more guards over the head with his axe. "And we're whittling down their numbers."

"Just shut up and kill them!" came Romano's voice from somewhere in the chaos. He let off several more rounds from his gun, then swore vilely when he noticed more reinforcements coming.

"At this rate, they'll overwhelm us," Japan said. He narrowly dodged a round, then buried his katana in his opponent's gut. He yanked it back out, and with a sweeping arc, took out two more guards.

"This way!" China shouted, making short work of three more with his wok. He leapt over the fallen guards and started running. Scotland, Spain, and Romano rushed to follow, guards right behind.

Scotland and Romano turned around, running backwards as they fired on their pursuers. The enemy numbers gradually decreased, but eventually China and Spain came to an abrupt halt at a fork in the passage. Scotland and Romano crashed into them, and it took a few seconds for the four of them to disentangle themselves. China got up first, taking out the last two guards with a few furious swings of his wok. He turned around, helping the other three to their feet.

"Which way do we go?" Spain asked, gesturing at their two options.

"I don't know… let's try the left," Scotland said, taking off without waiting for the others to respond. China, Spain and Romano ran after him.

Meanwhile, further down the corridor, another wave of reinforcements rounded the corner, all training their guns on Japan. Japan charged, cutting through their ranks in a flurry of swift strikes. He took several gunshot wounds in the process, but he forced himself to ignore the pain. When Japan killed the last guard, he found himself standing alone in the corridor. He glanced around, suddenly realizing that Scotland, Spain, Romano and China had disappeared.

"What the… where is everyone?" Japan asked. He sighed, swiping the blood off his blade. "I'm getting too old for this…"

He made his way down the corridor until he reached a fork in the passageway. Japan stood still for a moment, deciding which way to go.

"They went this way, right?"

Japan took the passage to the right.

He quickly realized he had gone the wrong way. Had the others gone this way, they'd probably have gotten into another firefight, what with all the men Japan had just run into. A huge group of them was standing in front of a set of large, metal double doors, and several more emerged from the shadows as soon as Japan showed up. Japan froze, realizing he was almost completely surrounded, and severely outnumbered.

"Drop the sword and put your hands up," one of the guards commanded.

Japan just stared at him.

"Look, Mr. Honda, you can surrender and do this the easy way, or you can fight, and make us capture you the hard way."

Japan blinked. _They're not supposed to know our human names,_ he thought._ When did they find that out?_

"Time's up," the guard said. He prepared to fire.

"I agree," Japan whispered. He readied his katana and charged.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: I don't really have much to say about this chapter. Although, just for easy reference, note that Toris=Lithuania, Eduard=Estonia, and Raivis=Latvia.**

**For the umpteenth time, I don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

Japan's initial attack cleared out a small handful of men in between him and those double doors. Leaping over his fallen enemies, Japan made a beeline for the doors, barely making it inside before the people inside shut the doors. With the thick, locked double doors now preventing the majority of the guards from getting at him, Japan stood a much better chance. The handful of men in the now-locked room all jumped up from their workstations and tried attacking Japan en masse, but Japan moved too quickly for them to be able to close in on him. Positioning himself so that chairs and workstations acted as obstacles to his enemy's movement, Japan swiftly made his way around the room, dispatching men one by one with his katana.

An explosion went off on the other side of the doors; some of the guards were trying to use explosives to get the doors open. Not knowing how long those doors would hold up, Japan worked fast. He went to one of the workstations and looked at the numerous screens; these appeared to be feeds from the security cameras hidden throughout the complex. Japan scanned the screens for any sign of the other nations.

It seemed England and Canada had met up with Germany's group, but America was noticeably absent. A few seconds of searching later, and Japan noticed that America was lying unconscious on what appeared to be a hospital bed, inside what was most likely this place's infirmary. Someone else was lying on the bed next to him, also unconscious. Looking closely, Japan realized the second individual was actually Estonia.

_That's odd,_ Japan thought. _Why would Estonia be here? And if he's here, are the other two Baltics here as well?_

Japan continued looking for the rest of the nations. He noticed Scotland, Spain, Romano, and China were hiding in a closet. That accounted for everyone he knew to have come to the complex, but Estonia's presence made Japan wonder if other nations were here as well. He continued looking.

While he was looking, he noticed something odd; a rather short individual dressed in scrubs was talking to a much taller individual wearing a guard's uniform. The shorter person handed the taller person something, but Japan was unable to tell what the item was. The two individuals then began walking in opposite directions.

Moving on past those two, Japan looked one last time at the screens, searching for any other nations that might be in the complex. Just before giving up and turning away from the screen, something caught Japan's eye. Sitting in the corner of a small cell at the extreme northern end of the complex was a brunette with shoulder-length hair. He looked disheveled and pale, and kept his face hidden from the camera, but Japan was reasonably certain that the individual in that cell was Lithuania.

_What have they been doing to him?_ Japan wondered in disgust, turning away from the workstation. He regarded the locked double doors, idly wondering how much longer he had before the guards brought them down. The cracks in the center indicated that it probably wasn't very long. Japan hurried to another workstation.

_What do these do?_ He thought, looking at a wide array of buttons, none of which were labeled.

Another explosion; the cracks in the doors widened. Japan gave up on trying to figure out the buttons and pulled out his phone. He needed backup. Now.

He was somewhat taken by surprise when his phone started ringing before he could punch in anyone's number. Japan held the phone up to his ear and answered.

"Hello, who is this?"

* * *

o0o

* * *

Scotland, Spain, Romano and China stopped to hide and catch their breath in what appeared to be a simple janitorial closet. Scotland sat on an overturned bucket and inspected his gun, while Spain put his battle axe away and leaned against the wall. Romano and China remained standing in the center of the closet. The four of them stared at each other in silence for an entire minute before someone spoke.

"What happened to Kiku?" Spain asked.

China glanced around the tiny room, his eyes going wide. "I could have sworn he was following us, aru," he said.

"Evidently not," Scotland said, holstering his gun and standing up.

"We haven't even found that English bastard yet, and now we've lost another one?" Romano said.

"Calm down, Lovino," Spain said. "Yao, try calling Kiku's phone. Find out where he is, and tell him where we are."

China nodded, withdrawing his phone and punching in Japan's number. Much to China's relief, Japan answered immediately.

"Hello, who is this?" Japan said.

"This is Yao," China replied. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the control room," Japan said. "The doors are locked, but the guards are using explosives to break the door down. I need you to come down and help me out; I don't think I can take all of them on my own."

"We'll be over there right away, aru," China said. "But, you'll need to direct us."

"Of course."

China gestured at Scotland, Spain, and Romano to follow him, and they all went back into the corridor. Scotland and Spain checked for guards approaching from either direction, then they followed China, while China followed Japan's directions to the control room. They travelled for about a minute without incident.

"Then keep going along the – oh no…" came Japan's voice over the phone.

"What happened, aru?" China asked.

"They've gotten through the door. I need to hang up."

Japan hung up before China could reply. China shoved the phone into his pocket and took off at a sprint down the corridor. The other three raced to keep pace with him. As they ran, they heard men shouting, followed by an explosion. Seconds later, the guards and the now-demolished double doors came into view.

China yelled out a battle cry, catching some of the enemy off guard. He knocked several aside with his wok, and Spain followed through China's attack with a swing of his battle axe. Scotland and Romano fired on the guards closer to the doors. Presently, Japan came into view.

"Where'd these guys come from?!" one of the guards shouted, opening fire on China, wounding him in the arm.

To the guard's horror, the injury only seemed to infuriate the Asian. China rounded on his attacker, fighting back with frightening speed and fury. After beating the guard to a pulp, China held his wok with one hand, seizing his enemy's gun with the other.

"Yao! Hand me that gun!" Scotland yelled.

China tossed the gun to him, and Scotland quickly put away his now-empty gun in favor of the new one. Letting out a fearsome battle cry of his own, Scotland opened fire on the guards closest to him. He and China made a steady advance towards the broken doors; meanwhile, Japan made his way towards his fellow nations, narrowly dodging bullets from almost every direction.

Once Japan joined them, the nations regrouped and made ready to retreat. The five of them made short work of the last handful of guards, then, when they were sure the fighting was done for the time being, turned to Japan.

"What did you find in that room?" Scotland asked.

"I didn't have enough time to look at everything," Japan began. "However, I did see a lot of screens showing live feeds from all the security cameras here."

"That will help," Spain said. "We'll know where to look for Arthur now."

"Ludwig's group has already found both him and Matthew," Japan explained. "However, the enemy has captured Alfred, as well as someone else we didn't know was in here."

Several people began talking at once.

"Who was the other person?"

"Wait a minute, how did they capture Alfred?"

"Where are they?"

"How come Ludwig's group never called us?"

Japan silenced the group with an upraised hand. "One question at a time, please," he said. "Also, there is one more thing I should point out before I go on."

"Well? Spit it out," Romano said.

"When I stumbled upon this room, one of the guards told me to surrender, and he addressed me by my human name. He called me 'Mr. Honda'."

Deafening silence fell on the group.

"How the hell do they know our human names?" Romano said.

"I have two guesses," Japan replied. "Since they've been watching us through the security cameras, they probably found out our names by watching and listening to us. Or, my second guess is that they knew our names all along, and those documents Ludwig showed us left the names out on purpose as a way to try to trick us."

"Well, damn," Scotland said, stealing another gun from one of the fallen guards.

Spain shrugged. "They knew everything else about us already, so I guess we shouldn't be too surprised."

"So, rather than worry about that," China said. "We should just focus on what to do next, aru."

Japan nodded. "I'll call the other group," he said. "No doubt they're looking for Alfred right now. We can point them in the right direction."

While Japan was calling Germany, Spain went into the control room and looked at the camera screens.

"Hang on a minute, Kiku," Spain called out. "If this looks right, then we're a lot closer to Alfred's position than they are. It would be a lot faster if we rescued him, then… wait a second… who is that?"

The Spaniard leaned closer to the screen. Japan walked over to join him, still holding the phone. While Japan looked to where Spain was pointing, Germany answered the phone.

"Hello, Kiku," Germany said. "What is it?"

"Our group has found the control room," Japan replied. "We're looking at the feeds from the security cameras, and we've found Alfred."

"Where is he?"

"It appears he's being held in their infirmary, but Antonio tells me that our group is much closer to this infirmary than your group. So, our group will go rescue him."

"All right. Shall we meet up with your group over there?"

Japan paused, and looked at Spain. Spain pointed at the screen showing Lithuania.

"Hold on, Ludwig. There's something else we've found; apparently we weren't the only nations that came in here."

Someone in the background on Germany's end started talking. Germany paused from his conversation with Japan to respond to the other person.

"Yes," Germany said, returning to the conversation. "Arthur tells me that Ivan is wandering around here somewhere."

"Not just Ivan. There's at least three more," Japan said.

"Who else?"

"Eduard, Toris, and Raivis. Eduard is in the infirmary with Alfred; I don't know where Raivis went; and Toris is currently being held in some kind of cell in the northern end of this complex."

"So the plan is: We rescue Toris; you rescue Alfred and Eduard?"

"Yes."

"All right. And as for Raivis and Ivan…"

"I don't think either one is in any danger at the moment. Shall we ignore them then?"

"Unless you happen to run into them."

"All right."

Germany hung up. Japan hung up as well, and pocketed the phone.

"Come on. The infirmary is this way," Japan said, leaving the control room and making his way towards the group's next destination. Spain, Romano, Scotland, and China followed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: This is so much fun to write. Although, I couldn't update as soon as I would have liked, due to college, as well as fixing some things in the proofreading process. **

**I do not own Hetalia. I'm just writing this for fun.**

* * *

America awoke to the sound of multiple voices talking around him. For the first minute or so, America was only dimly aware of his surroundings; he knew he was lying down on a bed, and he felt like there was something in his arm. Aside from the voices, America also became aware of an incessant beeping noise.

"What… is that…" he mumbled.

He heard someone walk over and stand next to him.

"Alfred? You awake?"

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but America couldn't quite place it, so he merely blurted out the first name that came to mind.

"Ar… thur?"

America opened his eyes in time to see a fist flying toward his face. Whoever he was talking to punched him hard in the nose. Suddenly, America sat upright, massaging his nose, now wide awake.

"What was that for?" asked a slightly annoyed America.

"Do not… _ever_… call me by that twat's name ever again."

"Huh?"

America looked in the direction of the speaker, who turned out to be Scotland. The redhead looked thoroughly annoyed, and his right hand was still clenched into a fist, as if ready to punch America again if he needed to. Only now did America realize the gravity of his blunder.

"Dude, I'm so sorry!" America said.

Scotland grunted and unclenched his fist. "I sure hope you are," he said.

America slowly got off the bed. "Where the heck am I?" he asked.

He perused his surroundings, finally noticing Romano, Spain, Japan and China as he did so. China appeared to be tending an unconscious, bespectacled blond man in the bed next to America's. America looked at the IV still sticking out of his arm.

"Am I in a hospital?"

"This is the enemy's infirmary," Japan replied.

"Uh huh." America massaged his head in the place Russia had struck him with the water pipe. "How did I end up here? Last I remember I was fighting Ivan…"

America shook his head vigorously as he tried to puzzle out what happened. When he stopped shaking his head, he yanked the IV out of his arm and stepped away from the bed. Blood spurted from America's arm, staining his shirt, the bed, and even onto the floor. America quickly covered his arm with his other hand, casting about for some bandages.

"What're you doing?" Scotland asked incredulously, stepping backwards to avoid getting blood spattered on him.

"Well, I was taking that IV out," America replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Who knows what kind of stuff they were giving me through that thing."

"I suppose…" Scotland muttered.

America found some bandages and wrapped his arm, then looked around again. "Hey!" he said.

"What is the problem, Alfred?" Japan asked.

"Have any of you guys seen my jacket?" America asked, checking under the bed. He got up and began looking on all the other empty beds. "Ivan better not have stolen it…"

"I doubt he stole it, aru," China said, now carefully trying to remove the IV from Estonia's arm. "But these people might have."

America gave up on trying to find his jacket and rejoined the group. "Yeah?" he said. "And I bet he's working for these guys! He was wearing one of their uniforms, and fighting alongside their men!"

Everyone exchanged glances. There was a long, awkward pause.

"This isn't making any sense," Spain said. "Why would Ivan work alongside an underground criminal organization that has been spying on us?"

"I'll bet he was feeding them the information!" America said. "It explains how they were able to learn so much about us without our governments finding out about them!"

"Alfred, calm down," Japan said. "Now, think: what could Ivan possibly stand to gain from doing that?"

"It's Ivan; he doesn't need a reason!" America retorted. "That, or they're paying good money."

Scotland laughed. "Somehow, I doubt they have the kind of money to bribe an entire nation, especially one like Ivan," he scoffed. "Let's face it, we're all greedy bastards; Ivan even more so than most of us."

America only looked partially convinced. "Well, if it's not for money, then why is he working for these people?"

"He may not be working for them at all," Japan said. He held up a hand to silence a protest from America. "What if he simply disguised himself to infiltrate their ranks and get information from the inside?"

"Could be," America admitted. "But something still doesn't seem right."

The argument was interrupted and ended when China walked over, carrying Estonia. "He won't wake up, aru," he said. "But he has a strong pulse; I think they just gave him some powerful anesthetic."

"He'll wake up eventually," Spain said. "Until then, we need to get a move on."

"Where to?" Scotland asked.

"Ludwig's group. We'll find and meet up with them," Japan said.

"Right. This way." Scotland led the way out of the infirmary and along the path that would take them towards the other group.

* * *

o0o

* * *

Germany's group gathered together and made ready to move as soon as Germany's phone conversation with Japan earlier had ended. Now, they had started walking along one of the passageways. Not two minutes into the walk, and they heard the sound of footsteps behind them, rapidly gaining on them. England and Germany whirled around, guns drawn, but quickly lowered them.

"Sorry, guys, but I had to go back and get something," Canada said, finally catching up to the rest of the group. He held up the laptop computer that had been in that room England and Canada had been hiding in before Germany's group found them.

"The laptop!" England exclaimed. "I had forgotten about that!"

"Well done, _mon fils,_" France said.

"Where are you going to put it?" Germany asked. "None of us have backpacks."

Canada shrugged. "I'll just carry it," he said, tucking it under his arm.

The group resumed their journey. Germany led the group, while Canada brought up the rear, being careful to keep an eye on the laptop. Everyone except for Canada walked along with weapons in hand, ready to fight if any more guards showed up. However, it seemed that all the guards had either already been eliminated, or were occupied elsewhere in the complex, for Germany's group continued to travel for quite a ways without incident.

After a while, the nations found themselves at an area labeled "Cellblock 1". They checked cell after cell, but every single one appeared to be empty. During their search, a loud, metallic crashing noise was heard, as if someone was breaking the bars of one of the cells. Germany and the other nations rushed to find the source of the noise.

At the end of the cellblock, they ran into Russia. Sure enough, the cell wall he was standing in front of had been more or less completely torn down. In Russia's arms was the cell's former occupant; a very pale and ragged-looking Lithuania.

"Hello, everyone," Russia said. "I was just about to leave. I recommend you do the same."

Russia then walked right past his fellow nations without further comment. The other nations just stared after him for several seconds while he walked away.

"Hold it!" England said. "Would you care to explain just what the hell is going on? Why are you even here?"

"As I told Germany earlier, I had urgent business with the Baltics," Russia explained.

"What does that mean?" Prussia demanded.

"I think the situation is self-explanatory," Russia said, nodding towards Lithuania, who appeared to be sleeping at the moment. He turned around and tried to leave again.

"No it isn't! Get back here!" England shouted.

Russia ignored him and left the cellblock. England swore under his breath. He was about to take off in pursuit of the Russian, but Germany held him back.

"Leave him; it's obvious we're not going to get any explanation out of him right now," Germany said.

"He's going to have to explain himself eventually," England said.

"He will; but right now we have other priorities," France said. "We still have to meet up with the other group."

"What about Lithuania?" Italy asked.

"I think we can let Russia take care of him for the time being. I'd rather not try to take him away from Russia at any rate; that wouldn't end well," Germany said. He pulled out his phone. "However, we need to contact the others."

He was about to punch in Japan's number, but was interrupted by the loud, obnoxious wail of an alarm. The countries briefly looked shocked, but England recovered first.

"Oh sure, _now_ they set off the alarm," he said with a smirk. "Better late than never, I suppose."

Germany resumed dialing Japan's number, and called. Moments later, Japan answered.

"Germany, are you hearing that alarm as well?"

"Yes," Germany replied. "I'm not sure what it's for, though. However, we did reach Toris' cell, but Ivan got here first. He's already left with Toris."

Germany heard America shouting in the background while Japan paused. Romano's voice was also heard, telling the American to shut up.

"All right," Japan said finally. "We've got Alfred and Eduard, but Eduard is still unconscious, probably from anesthetic. Yao is carrying him at the moment."

"Are you still in the infirmary?"

"No, we're headed in your direction."

"Good. As soon as we meet up, we find the exit and get out of here. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good." Germany hung up and pocketed his phone.

The alarm continued to sound, but the monotonous wails seemed to be getting louder.

"This can't be good," France said.

"Then let's hurry and find the others!" Germany said, taking off at a run.

Prussia, France, England, Italy and Canada followed as fast as they could. They left the cellblock, taking the passageway Germany had taken. After several turns, a few of the nations found themselves hoping that Germany wasn't accidentally getting them lost. All of the corridors were starting to look the same; it was a wonder anyone could navigate this place without a map.

At long last, the two groups met each other. However, there was no time to exchange words; as Germany immediately gestured for the other nations to follow him as he took off to find an exit. Everyone had to run to keep up with the German.

It seemed like hours before the nations finally found an exit. It ended up being the same spot that Canada had used as an entrance earlier; according to England, it probably wasn't a good idea to risk the entrance England had used; they had no idea what the security would be like over there. In all likelihood, whatever was left of the base's security was there, waiting to prevent them from using that exit.

Canada located the spot where the moving floorboards were. With some help from America, the two brothers forced the floorboards out of place, then helped lift the other nations to the floor of the building above. They sent Germany up first, who then took the unconscious Estonia from China's arms, setting the Baltic nation gently on the floor a few feet away. China went up next. The alarm suddenly stopped.

America and Canada were in the middle of helping Prussia up when the ground shook violently. The brothers nearly dropped Prussia, but Germany seized his brother's arm and lifted him the rest of the way up.

"What was that?" America asked.

"Somehow I don't think it's an earthquake," Japan said apprehensively.

The ground shook again, this time accompanied with the sounds of a distant explosion.

"I think I have a good idea what that alarm was," England said, as America and Canada began lifting Italy out.

"What do you think it was, Angleterre?" France asked.

"Judging by the explosions and tremors, I suspect this place has some sort of self-destruct mechanism in place," England explained. "It was probably activated some time ago, and the alarm was an evacuation warning."

"In that case, we really need to hurry," Spain said, stepping forward to let America and Canada lift him out. Romano swore and followed Spain. The North American brothers worked quickly, and with the help of the German brothers, got everyone else out in under a minute. America was the last one out; he hoisted his brother up, who then grabbed America's arm and lifted him out.

The shaking grew increasingly violent, and the nations lost no time in fleeing the building as quickly as they could. On the streets outside, passersby had felt the tremors as well, and were panicking and fleeing for cover in every direction. Meanwhile, the abandoned building the nations had emerged from collapsed rapidly, sinking into the ground. Just as England had said, the base self-destructed; the underground complex had collapsed in on itself, and the buildings and streets above were now sinking into the hole. Wailing sirens were heard coming from several directions as German emergency vehicles responded to the scene. Amidst the chaos, the nations made their way back to the hotel parking lot, where they got into their vehicles and drove away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: I'm really only putting these here because it looks funny without it. As I said before, I don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

Germany led the nations' small convoy of three rental cars back to Berlin. They pulled into the parking garage outside Berlin's world meeting building, then hurried into the meeting building itself. They were here on Germany's insistence; it was the closest world meeting building (every nation had at least one such building somewhere in their country), and, given what had just happened, an emergency meeting was necessary. There was no time for idle chat; the countries all filed into the meeting room, sat down, and awaited Germany's instructions. The only exception was China; he had been tasked with taking care of Estonia until he awoke, so he took his unconscious charge into a different room.

"Canada, the laptop please," Germany said.

Canada handed it over. Germany opened it, and the login screen appeared.

"I tried hacking into it earlier," England began. "But, unfortunately, I was unable to get in before the fighting broke out."

Germany looked pointedly at America and Japan. "Since Estonia can't help us right now, do either one of you think you can hack into this laptop for us?"

"Sure thing, dude!" America said, reaching for the laptop. He waved Japan over, and began typing. Several minutes later – and with Japan's help – America finally got an "Access Granted" screen.

"Here we are!" America said triumphantly, turning the laptop around so the other countries could see the screen. Everyone leaned in to get a good look.

"That's… different…" France commented.

"Why are some of these folders not labeled at all?" Italy asked.

"Of course they're labeled, stupid. See the flags?" Romano said.

"America, open this folder here," Germany said, pointing a folder that had the German flag color scheme on it.

America opened the folder. Germany's profile appeared, with his human name, Ludwig Beilschmidt, in smaller print below his nation name. Under the name were several photographs. The top photo was dated 1901, with all subsequent photos in chronological order leading the most recent photo, dated 2011, at the bottom. Germany stared unbelieving at his own photos for a moment before saying anything.

"These have to been stolen from my government's archives," Germany said. "I know for a fact that none of these have ever been seen by the public."

"These weren't in those profiles you showed us either," England said. "Same thing with your human name: it's displayed prominently at the top here, but is entirely missing from those documents you stole from them."

"It makes one wonder if those documents Germany gave us were fake," Scotland said.

"Or were at the very least some kind of bait to lure us right to them," Prussia added. His eyes widened in shock. "Damn! We walked right into their trap!"

"But we got out of it, didn't we?" America said. "Their plan failed!"

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," England cautioned. "They did – at least temporarily – capture you."

"That was Russia's fault!" America protested. "I'm telling you, he's in league with these guys!"

"I don't care whose_ fault_ it was," England interrupted. "We have no idea what they did to you – or Lithuania, for that matter – while they had you in their custody."

"They can't have done much," America said, gesturing to himself. "I'm just fine, aren't I?"

England opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off.

"Stop it; you both have a point," Germany said. "America appears to be just fine, but Lithuania looked to be in pretty bad shape when we found him. So, while I wouldn't worry about America, I would definitely be concerned about Lithuania."

"But Russia has Lithuania with him at the moment," France said.

Germany pulled out his phone. "I'll call Russia," he said simply. "He's involved now; he needs to come to the meeting anyway."

Germany's call to Russia was interrupted when the meeting room door opened. In walked Russia, alone.

"Hello," Russia said, giving a small wave. The other countries just stared at him in stunned silence.

"What – how did you know we were here?" Germany said, still holding his phone.

"It's simple; we followed you," Russia replied. He walked forward to sit down.

"We?" America looked incredulous. "Who's 'we'?"

"Latvia and Lithuania are downstairs," Russia said, jerking his thumb at the door.

"So why did you follow us?" England asked, but the answer occurred to him right as he said the question. Russia wanted Estonia.

"When Estonia didn't leave with Latvia, I thought he might have gone with you people," Russia replied. He took a moment to survey his fellow nations. He leaned back in his chair, looking somewhat smug. "I assumed correctly, da?"

"Yes…" Spain said hesitantly.

"Calm yourselves, everyone," Germany said. "Russia, I guarantee we will return Estonia to you, but first, we need your help."

Russia smiled. "What do you need?"

"I'm reasonably certain you know some things about this organization that no one else here does," Germany replied. "I need you to fill us in."

Russia pointed to the laptop. "Have you looked at everything on there?" he said.

"Doing it right now!" America said. He closed the folder on Germany and opened a different one, glaring at Russia as he did so.

"Hold on a minute," England said, rising from his chair and going over to a cabinet on the wall. Opening the cabinet, he pulled out a projector. He returned to the table, setting the projector next to the laptop. Once he got the projector and laptop connected, he turned the projector on. Now the laptop screen was displayed on the wall for everyone to see.

"Ah! That's better," Italy said.

"Alright, now, to go through all the information on here," England said, looking at the projection of the screen on the wall.

"Where do we start?" France asked.

Before anyone could answer, the doors opened again, and China walked through, Estonia walking somewhat gingerly behind him. Both of them froze when they saw Russia sitting at the table.

"How did he get here, aru?" China demanded, gesturing at Russia. China then decided to answer his own question. "You followed us, didn't you."

Russia nodded. He waved Estonia over, who complied, his gingerly gait indicating he was still recovering from the anesthetic. Italy stood up and offered his seat to the unsteady Baltic nation, who quietly thanked him and sat.

"Sorry, Russia," Estonia said weakly. "They captured me and knocked me out."

A muscle in Russia's cheek twitched briefly, but other than that, he kept his face unreadable. "Don't worry," Russia said. "You did your job."

"And what was his job, eh, laddie?" Scotland asked.

America turned his attention away from the laptop to give Russia a glare that demanded an answer.

Russia produced a syringe filled with clear fluid and set it on the table. "Latvia says Estonia was given this while he was posing as one of their doctors," Russia began. "He apparently was told to inject America with it, but instead, he gave it to Latvia, who smuggled it out."

America stood up and seized the syringe. "What is it?!" he asked.

"I don't know," Russia said with a shrug. "I just got out of that base myself, too, you know. I need more time to analyze it."

While America had been so fascinated by the mysterious drug he was holding, Canada took America's seat and started messing with the laptop. All of the other nations had also been distracted by Russia and the strange syringe themselves, so no one was paying any attention to the screen while Canada experimented.

"So, while they had America, they tried to give him some kind of drug?" Italy said. "I wonder what for."

"Russia just said he has no idea what it's for, you idiot," Romano grumbled.

"And it would be pointless to speculate," England added. "Right now, we need to focus on what we do know."

"What else is there, besides that these people know what we are, have some kind of sinister goal, and probably have more than just that one base?" Prussia asked with a tinge of sarcasm.

"Why do you say they have more than one base?" Spain asked.

"It's obvious," Prussia said, leaning back in his chair. "They wouldn't be so eager to blow up their own base if they didn't have more in reserve."

"If that's the case, then that seems a rather careless action," Japan said. "The German police will investigate the ruins and find them out sooner or later."

"Yeah, these people seem the type to enjoy plotting in secrecy," Scotland said. "Even though we found 'em out, blowing up a base will probably reveal more than they cover up."

"Maybe they simply thought they could bury us in the wreckage," Germany said.

"They know too much about us to think that would work," England argued. "We would've gotten ourselves out eventually, and they know it."

"Um, guys…" Canada said.

"I thought you said we shouldn't speculate," Russia said. "Maybe we should just use their stupidity to our advantage."

"If they're so stupid, how come we still know so little about them?" America said.

"Because you're not looking, comrade," Russia replied placidly, which only annoyed the American further.

Fortunately, America was managing to hold himself in check at the moment. Russia turned to England. "England, I introduced you to those guards as their 'Charles' person. Why didn't you take advantage of that?" he asked.

"Why didn't _you_ pretend to be Charles yourself?" England retorted. "Besides, we're not even sure who this Charles is; I wouldn't have known what to do to make a convincing impersonation of him."

"Do _you_ know who Charles is?" Germany asked Russia.

"Guys, I think you should look at this," Canada said, pointing at the screen. Everyone ignored him, their attention still focused on Russia.

"As far as I can tell, the name Charles is just a codename used by someone very high up in their chain of command," Russia said. "He travels a lot; apparently he was in the United States only yesterday. He took a flight to London, and presumably went to Germany after that. However, several weeks before that, he went through the Baltic states, roughly around the time Lithuania disappeared."

"Fine, but what does he actually do?" Scotland asked.

Canada tapped America on the shoulder.

"Whoa! What was that?!" America yelled, spinning around and almost falling out of his chair. Everyone temporarily stopped the discussion and looked at America. Seconds later, they noticed the screen.

"Wait – who was messing with the laptop?" Spain asked, staring incredulously at the screen.

"That was me," Canada replied. "But that's beside the point – look." He pointed at the screen.

Displayed on the screen was a photograph of a brown-haired man wearing a black suit-and-tie outfit. Underneath the photo was the name Brandon James Ferguson, and underneath that name was another one: Charles. To the right of the photo was a list of the nations, and next to each nation name was a blue circle; with the exception of Lithuania, who had a red circle.

"What are the circles for?" France asked.

Canada scrolled down to reveal more text below the list. The first few lines read as follows:

_ Candidate Nations:_

_United States, China, Russia, United Kingdom, India, Japan _

_Current recommendation is the United Kingdom. Recommendation subject to change as conditions allow. _

"What do they mean by 'recommendation'?" America asked.

"This still doesn't explain who Charles is," England pointed out.

Canada tried scrolling down further, but it appeared that there was no more to that page. Canada scrolled back up to Charles' picture.

"This is getting nowhere, aru," China said, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

"Wait," France said, getting up and walking over to the screen. "If, according to Russia, this Charles visited the Baltic states at the same time Lithuania disappeared, then is it possible that this Charles abducted Lithuania himself?"

"Seems likely," Germany answered. "Why is that relevant?"

"Maybe 'recommendation' means which country he's supposed to kidnap next," Prussia volunteered.

Scotland tilted his head to one side. "Seems a bit…random… to kidnap one of the Baltics then suddenly try to kidnap England right after that," he said.

A handful of the nations merely shrugged in response.

"We're missing something," Spain said. "Something obvious, probably."

Romano laughed derisively. "I don't think we're missing anything. They're just kidnapping countries at random."

"But why?" Germany said. "What are they trying to do?"

"Take over the world, duh," Prussia said nonchalantly.

"I think our Prussian friend has it," Russia said, gesturing at Prussia, half-smirking. "Now all we have to do is stop them, da?"

"Seems straightforward enough," England said. "So, what's our next move?"

England's phone began ringing. Looking down at his pocket in surprise, England reached into it and pulled out his phone, answering it. It turned out to be his prime minister.

"England, there's been a break-in at your house in London," England's boss said.

"What?! When?!"

"Less than half an hour ago, it seems. The thieves escaped before police arrived, unfortunately, but we've been checking to see if anything was stolen."

"And? Was anything stolen?"

"Just a handful of books, apparently."

"What books?"

"Those huge, leather-bound ones you keep in that cabinet in the basement."

England went pale with horror and shock. "Right," he said distantly. He forced himself to regain some composure before continuing. "Contact Scotland Yard. Find those books as soon as possible."

England hung up. The other countries stared at him in varying degrees of confusion.

"What happened, England?" Japan asked.

"Someone has stolen all my spellbooks," England replied.

"It seems the next move has been made for us," Germany said.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: So sorry about the late update, guys! I blame that (music) history test I had to cram for.****.. Anyway, a major mystery is finally explained in this chapter! **

**I don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

It took a few minutes, but the nations finally calmed themselves down from their initial panic at this latest development. There was absolutely no doubt that the same organization that had captured Lithuania was also responsible for the theft of England's spellbooks. The fact that this group was able to infiltrate England's house within hours of having their base in Germany destroyed also supported Prussia's supposition that there was more than one base in existence.

A simple investigation had turned into a potentially global threat.

"What do we do now, Germany?" Italy asked, timidly toying with a small white flag he had pulled out of his pocket.

"I need to find my spellbooks as soon as possible," England said. "There's no telling what they'll do with the power of my magic."

"I know, I know," Germany said, putting a hand to his chin and trying to think. "But we can't all just go back to your country looking for those books without any leads."

"It shouldn't be necessary to send _everyone,_" England said. "Just Scotland and myself ought to do it."

Scotland glared at England. "When did I get volunteered to look for _your_ things?" he said disgustedly.

"Just now," England replied. Scotland got up and took a step toward his brother, looking ready to punch him. Prussia had to get up and hold the Scot back.

Germany rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the syringe Russia had placed on the table earlier. "Someone needs to analyze that," Germany said, pointing at it. "Find out what's in it; it might help us figure out what these people are up to."

"I'll do it," France volunteered, picking up the syringe.

"Good. Let me know what you find," Germany said.

"What will the rest of us do?" Spain asked.

"This organization has more bases somewhere, but, problem is, we don't know where," Prussia began.

"They could be in any of our countries, aru," China added.

"So, perhaps it would be best if we looked for more potential bases hidden in our lands," Japan said.

"Search and destroy!" America said, bringing his fist down on the table for emphasis.

"And, the other nations that don't yet know about this?" Spain asked.

"As China said, the enemy could be hiding anywhere. We must let our fellow nations know immediately," Germany said. "An emergency world meeting is in order."

"One last thing; that laptop," England said, gesturing to the object in question. "We're not done looking through it."

"I'll look through it," Germany said. "I'll fill everyone else in at the emergency meeting; it'll be faster."

"All right then, so when is the emergency meeting?" England asked. "I need to get back home as soon as possible."

"Tomorrow," Germany replied. "I'm going to send the announcement now."

Germany left the room, taking the laptop with him. France pocketed the syringe and left shortly after Germany did. The rest of the nations slowly followed suit.

* * *

The next morning came quickly. The nations that had met in the Berlin world meeting building the night before waited in tense silence while other nations from around the world trickled in. Over the course of about three hours, everyone finally arrived in the room. The meeting commenced at 11:00 exactly.

"All right everyone, as I told you last night, we are facing a possibly global threat," Germany began. "No doubt some of you saw news reports of the explosion in my country yesterday. Well, that explosion was the result of one of the enemy's bases being destroyed."

"However, we know there are more somewhere," England added. "I strongly suspect there's one in my country; some of their operatives broke into my house and stole my spellbooks not long after the base in Germany was destroyed."

"Are you saying there could also be more bases in any of our countries?" India asked.

Germany nodded.

"How could they have managed to set up such a large network of operations without any of us – or our governments – noticing?" Turkey asked.

"I don't know," Germany admitted with a shrug.

"I can think of a few theories," England said. "The first – and frankly, the most likely – is that these people have been around for a long time, and have had years of experience at avoiding detection. Conversely, they could also have only come into existence recently, and no one noticed until Germany found them. And lastly… there is the possibility that our governments are in on it, and are deliberately not telling us."

There was a sudden uproar as all the countries began talking at once, debating the likelihood of England's suggestions, particularly the last one. Several of the countries vehemently contradicted the last theory; others acknowledged the possibility, but were upset nonetheless. It took Germany banging his fists hard on the table and shouting at the top of his lungs to get everyone to be quiet.

"Calm yourselves!" Germany commanded, quickly scanning the room. "As I said before, we_ don't know_ how this organization escaped detection. The important thing is that we know about them now. Our next step is finding where the rest of their bases are, and shutting them down."

"I get the feeling that will be easier said than done," Taiwan said.

"Yeah, for one thing, we don't know where to begin looking," Australia added.

Japan put up his hand. "I suggest we start by contacting our bosses," he said. "We're going to assistance from our governments."

"And what if what England said about our governments being with these guys is true?" America cut in.

"Then their duplicity would become apparent; most likely fairly early on in the investigation," Japan countered. "We are not our governments, but we know them well."

Russia chuckled, and the Baltic countries briefly glanced over at him in alarm. America rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath. Sensing another possible chaotic argument brewing, Germany cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Japan's got the right idea; there's no way we'd be able to do this entirely by ourselves," he said. "But, before we can do that, there's some important information that everyone needs to know first."

Germany gestured to the Baltics, and Lithuania in particular. The brunette looked to be in somewhat better condition than when Germany last saw him, but he was still a little pale, however.

"Although we didn't know this when first going in to investigate, this group had somehow captured Lithuania," Germany said. "They later – very briefly – had Estonia and America as well. As some of you already know, Russia rescued Lithuania, and ten of us rescued Estonia and America."

"Do we have any idea what they were holding them prisoner for?" Finland asked.

Germany sighed and nodded slowly. "Based on the information I've gathered so far…" he began. "I think they were trying to experiment on us."

The words were barely out of Germany's mouth when the nations got into another uproar. Several people got up from their seats. Within seconds, not even Germany's booming voice; which was trying vainly to restore calm, could be heard over the din. Nothing anyone tried had any effect; until Russia took out his pistol and fired a shot through the ceiling, shocking everyone into silence.

"Perhaps it would be a good idea to hear all of the information _before_ panicking, da?" Russia said, putting the pistol away.

Germany stared open-mouthed at Russia for a second, then, regaining composure, continued where he left off.

"As I was saying, they tried experimenting on us," Germany said. "But, from the data I was looking at on a laptop computer we stole from their base yesterday, they haven't been able to do very much. The only one of us they were able to hold captive for very long was Lithuania, and according to the computer, they didn't even do much to him."

Lithuania paled. Germany and several of the other nations looked at him in curiosity.

"If you don't mind my asking," England said, briefly shooting Lithuania an apologetic look as he spoke. "But what are the specifics of the so-called 'experiments'?"

Lithuania stood up, as if volunteering to answer the question himself. He looked around nervously, then spoke.

"Every other day or so, they would give me something through an IV," Lithuania said. "I have no idea what it was, but after a while, I started to feel… different."

"Different how?" France asked.

Lithuania furrowed his brow. "It's hard to describe," he said. "But, occasionally, I would get really intense headaches."

England frowned. "Headaches? That's it?"

"Yes. They would get so intense I couldn't hear my people."

Maybe there's some kind of social upheaval going on in your country?" Italy asked.

Lithuania shook his head. He was about to speak, but was interrupted by America.

"No, dude, that sort of thing gives you the kind of headache where all you _can_ hear is your people screaming at each other," America said. "I get that every four years; it's a nightmare."

England rolled his eyes. "That's your own fault, you git," he muttered under his breath.

"It looks like Lithuania's headaches are connected with whatever drugs he was being injected with," Germany said. "And, according to Russia, America also almost got injected with something – probably the same thing Lithuania was being given – while being held captive. Estonia and Latvia helped smuggle out a syringe containing the drug. France volunteered to analyze it for us."

"That is correct," France said. "Unfortunately, I haven't been able to figure out much."

"What have you been able to find so far?" Japan asked.

"Well, it's not technically a drug," France began. "But, it doesn't seem to be anything else either. It's unlike anything I've ever seen. Perhaps if we sent this to a team of the world's top medical researchers…"

"Wait, how is it not a drug?" India asked. "You're not making sense. What is the closest thing you can compare it to?"

France shrugged.

"Well, with more time, we'll figure out what it is," Germany said. "In the meantime, we need to find the rest of this organization and stop them before more damage is done."

"Um, Germany…" Canada said quietly.

"Hm? What was that?" Germany asked, looking around the room. "America, was that you?"

America frowned and shook his head. Canada sighed heavily and tried clearing his throat as loudly as he could. Germany looked to one chair to America's left, finally noticing Canada.

"Oh! Canada! Sorry about that; um, what is it?" Germany said.

"Did you find any more information on 'Charles'? Everything we've found out so far is rather vague," Canada said.

"Yes," Germany replied. "It was a bit tricky to find; apparently there's a lot on this guy that is kept hidden from most of his own organization."

"I take it he is, in fact, their leader then?" England asked. "Then it doesn't surprise me there's things he would keep secret from his underlings."

"So, what did you find, aru?" China asked.

"Well, to start with, this Charles is indeed a man by the name of Brandon James Ferguson," Germany began. "However, everything else on his identification, like the birth date and such, is false. There's a file hidden in that laptop that contains scans of journal pages, with entries dating back as early as the 1860's, all written by Ferguson. Aside from the journal pages, I found an enlistment form for the United States Army, signed by Ferguson, dated 1861."

The last sentence caught America's attention. He sat up straight in his chair and looked incredulously at Germany.

"The hell?" America said. "That's impossible! That would make him over a hundred and fifty years old! Are you sure it's the same guy, and not a descendant or something?"

"I was only able to find one photo of him from that time, but it matches the photo in his fake British identification exactly," Germany said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. "I printed a copy. Here, have a look."

Germany passed the photo down to America. America seized the photo, staring at it in disbelief. It was impossible to tell the hair color due to the black-and-white film, but one of the men in the photo looked just like the other pictures of Ferguson. He was wearing the uniform of a soldier in the Union Army, as were the other men next to him. Aside from Ferguson, however, America recognized another individual in the picture, on the far left.

"That's… me!" America exclaimed.

Canada leaned in to get a closer look. "Ferguson fought beside you in your Civil War?" he asked.

"Apparently he did," America said, putting the photo down. "But how?"

"Germany, what else did you find?" England asked urgently. "Is there anything that might explain how he's managed to live this long?"

"His journal entries tell of how he figured out that we exist," Germany replied. "Apparently, he figured it out when he shot a Confederate soldier in the head, only for that soldier to get right back up and take him down. He was captured by that soldier, and taken back to a Confederate camp."

America's eyebrows shot up. "So he met the Confederacy," he said. "But, that still doesn't explain-"

"Ferguson escaped, and later fled to London, England," Germany continued. "Another journal entry describes him getting into a fight with a man that matches England's description. During the fight, Ferguson's opponent apparently didn't get the slightest bit injured, even when Ferguson stabbed him.

"At this point, Ferguson quickly figured out that this Englishman and that Confederate soldier had something in common: they were both immortal. He then became fascinated with the concept, and took to studying black magic to try and become immortal himself."

"Looks like he was successful," England said, arching an eyebrow. "So when did he figure out our identities as nations, and when did he start this underground group?"

"Well, shortly after beginning his studies of black magic, he gained a small following of people that were also trying to make themselves immortal. One of them claimed to be a former member of Parliament; the House of Lords, to be specific. It was with the help of this man that Ferguson realized what we were."

"He _told_ him?!" England yelled, outraged. "Our government officials know better than to tell anyone our secret!"

"The rest of it is unclear, because Ferguson gets very cryptic and starts leaving large sections out, but, apparently, he somehow made himself immortal, then he shot and killed the former Parliament member. He then left London, and moved to Brandenburg. I don't know what happened since then because the last entry stops at 1945; where he declares that he's going to move again, but he doesn't say where. I also did not find anything on the founding of the organization we fought, so I assume he founded it after 1945."

Romano cursed in his native tongue. "All that, and we still don't know anything about these bastards," he said.

"Well, we know a lot more about their leader, at least," England said. "It's a start."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: This chapter was fun. The next one, however, will be even more so, trust me. **

**I do not own Hetalia. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction of it.**

* * *

The latest revelations on the mysterious 'Charles', but lack of new information on the organization he was apparently running left many of the nations confused and flustered as they left the world meeting building. Granted, they had devised a plan that would hopefully resolve the issue, but many left the meeting with more questions than when they had arrived. Unfortunately, nobody had the answers at the moment, so all that could be done was for everyone to return home.

England and Scotland took a taxi to the airport in Berlin. After checking in, going through security, and a short wait in the terminal, the two nations were on a flight back to Britain. Neither nation spoke to the other at all through the entire flight; Scotland merely sat in grim silence and stared out the window while England scribbled on a piece of scrap paper. He ended up going through several pieces of paper before the flight landed.

When their plane finally came to a stop in the terminal, England and Scotland exited the plane, heading directly to baggage claim. While waiting for their luggage to show up on the carousel, England phoned his boss.

"Any leads on my stolen books?" England asked.

"Some witnesses have given us some descriptions of a possible suspect," the Prime Minister replied.

"Is there only one suspect?" England asked.

"So far," was the reply.

"What does he look like?"

"Well, our information so far is somewhat vague, but the man is just under six feet tall, and was wearing a black business suit. Dark hair."

England rolled his eyes. He should have expected as much, but a description like that wasn't going to help much.

"Thank you, sir."

"Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

"Yes, but it's top secret; I can't give details over the phone, I'm afraid."

"I see. I'll arrange a private meeting right away."

"Thank you. We'll be heading to my house first, though. Schedule the meeting for tomorrow."

There was a slight pause before the Prime Minister spoke. "9:00 tomorrow morning, then."

"All right then." England hung up.

Scotland returned from the carousel with his suitcase in hand. England went to retrieve his own suitcase, then the two left the airport. Almost an hour of London traffic later, and the two nations finally pulled up outside England's house. A Scotland Yard detective was standing outside the building as if he had been waiting for them. England got out of the car first.

"Good afternoon, sir," England said.

"Are you Arthur Kirkland, the man who lives here?" the detective asked.

"I am," England replied, but he pulled out his identification just in case the detective didn't believe him.

"Who is this?" the detective asked, gesturing to Scotland, who had just walked up.

"My brother, Sean," England said. He glanced at Scotland, then back at the detective. "He came down from Edinburgh the other day to visit; he was with me at the time the break-in occurred."

The detective nodded. England went up to the door of his house. He glanced at the detective, and when the detective didn't say anything, England let himself in. Scotland and the detective followed.

"Beg pardon, sir, but what is your name?" England asked as they entered the foyer.

"Detective Robertson," the detective replied.

"Thank you, Mr. Robertson," England said. He led the group directly to the flight of stairs that led to the basement. "How did the thief get in?"

"When police arrived, they found the front door unlocked," Robertson replied. "Given the lack of damage to the house, we assume that's how he got in."

England frowned as he opened the door to the stairs. "I _always _lock the door," he said. "And there's only one key, and it's in my possession."

"Good lockpick then," Robertson said.

The three men made their way into the basement. England went straight to the shelf where some of his spellbooks were kept. Somewhat to his surprise, there were books there. Upon close inspection of the covers, England noticed that these were indeed the authentic leather covers of his spellbooks. He picked one volume from off the shelf and opened it.

"What… the hell?"

Scotland and the detective walked over.

"What's the problem?" Scotland asked.

He leaned over and looked at the page England had the book open to. Scotland arched an eyebrow, now realizing why England had reacted the way he did.

"Methinks someone's a wee bit touched in the head?" Scotland said.

England turned the page. "Clearly…" he replied.

"What is it?" Robertson asked.

England held the open book for the detective to see.

"This is the actual cover of one of the books that was stolen," England said, closing the book and showing the cover. "But… the contents…" England reopened the book.

It was the detective's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Those are not the original contents, I take it?"

England nodded.

"So… the thief has put the _cover _back, but with different pages in place… pages from a cookbook, apparently."

The three men could only stare dumfounded at the book.

_My spellbook has been turned into a cookbook,_ England thought. _Seriously… what the hell?_

* * *

**(-)**

* * *

America and Canada took the same flight back to JFK International. The plane had a smooth takeoff, and within a few minutes of reaching the cruising altitude of about 30,000 feet, the pilot turned off the seatbelt sign.

Canada paid no attention; he was settled comfortably in his seat with a book. America removed his seatbelt, but stayed in his seat. He reached into his pockets and retrieved an iPod, placing the earbuds in his ears and turning the music on. Presently, a stewardess came down the aisle, serving some snacks and beverages. Canada and America each took just a glass of water. The stewardess continued making her way down the aisle; Canada returned to his book; and America to his music.

A few hours later into the flight, America got up to use the restroom. When he returned to his seat, however, he noticed his head hurt slightly. Blaming the air pressure in the cabin, America decided to ignore it, although he did take out a piece of gum and start chewing on it; he'd heard that chewing gum helped alleviate headaches related to air pressure. He relaxed in his seat, chewing gum and listening to music.

When the gum finally lost its flavor, America noticed his headache was not going away. If anything, it had gotten slightly worse. Idly wondering if maybe there was something going on in his country that might have started the headache, America leaned back in his chair and tried to focus on finding the source of the trouble. He mentally ran through every state, looking and listening to his people to see if anything had come up.

Nothing did. His people were fine. The only problems he did find, he quickly realized were not connected to the headache. America gave up searching, but his headache slowly intensified. He searched his pockets for painkillers, but couldn't find any. He tapped Canada on the shoulder.

"Alfred? What is it?"

"Do you have any Tylenol or something?"

"Um…"

Canada searched his pockets, but also came up empty.

"Sorry, Al."

America sighed and drank the last of his water. He turned up the volume on his iPod, thinking that the music would make him forget the headache. It didn't. Instead, the pain continued to intensify.

Frustrated, America put his iPod away and got up from his seat. He headed to the restroom again, but when he noticed the sign indicating it was currently occupied, he returned to his seat. Right as he was sitting down, he was almost floored by a sudden, sharp stabbing pain in his temple that hurt much worse than what he'd felt so far. America gripped his head in one hand, biting down hard on his lip so as not to scream in pain.

"Al? You okay?"

America barely even registered the soft, concerned voice of his brother. He slowly turned in the Canadian's direction, still holding his head.

"I have a headache of epic proportions," America said, resting his head against the back of the seat in front of him.

Canada's eyes widened. "What kind of headache?" he asked.

"No idea."

"What do you mean…?" Canada trailed off, thinking back to the emergency meeting in Berlin. Hadn't Lithuania said something about intense headaches caused by the mysterious drugs he'd been given? Was it possible that America was experiencing the same thing right now?

America rubbed his temples in an attempt to lessen the pain. Canada put his book away and leaned closer to his brother, whispering in America's ear so that no one else would hear what he had to say next.

"Check your people, Al."

"I tried that earlier; I know that's not the problem," America replied indignantly, but he kept his voice to a whisper as well.

"Double check anyway."

America relented. He doubted he'd find anything new, but he would humor his brother. It couldn't hurt more than already did, could it? America focused, and tried to mentally run through his country again.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He couldn't hear his people at all.

It was as if he had just walked into an empty, pitch black room. America stumbled around in this void where the voices of his people had been just minutes ago, trying in vain to find them again. He told himself that they had to be in there somewhere; the entire United States couldn't have just disappeared from the map in one instant. The longer his search went on, the more frantic America became. He ran circles in his mind, trying desperately to find something that would reconnect him to the American people. Nothing worked. Eventually, he started to feel dizzy and physically exhausted, but whether that was from his fruitless mental exercise or the headache, America was not sure.

At some point, America's condition had attracted the attention of a flight attendant. The man stood in the aisle next to America's seat, staring at the American in concern.

"Sir? Are you all right?"

Canada answered for his brother. "He's got a terrible headache," he said. "Do you have an icepack or something?"

"I'll see what I can do," the flight attendant replied, and walked away.

America glanced at his brother. "Do you really think that will help?"

"It's better than nothing," Canada replied.

The flight attendant returned with a small icepack in hand. "Here you are, sir."

"Thank you." America took the icepack and immediately pressed it against his left temple, while the flight attendant took off again.

After what felt like hours later, just as the plane was coming in for the landing, America's headache finally faded. It faded slowly; but by the time he and Canada set foot in the terminal, the headache was totally gone. As the brothers headed to baggage claim, America attempted once again to listen for his people, and, much to his relief, he could indeed hear them again. He breathed a visible sigh of relief, which prompted a glance from Canada.

"Are they back?" Canada asked.

"Yes. And the headache's gone," America said.

"That's good," Canada said, but the smile he gave his brother was somewhat apprehensive. He knew something had happened to America back in the enemy base, and Canada couldn't shake the feeling that whatever it was, it was far worse than a mere headache.

Presently, the two arrived at baggage claim. The brothers picked up their luggage, but before they left, America opened his luggage and began looking through it.

"What are you looking for?" Canada asked.

"My phone," America said. "When I realized I didn't have it on me, I was thinking I might have put it in here."

Two minutes of fruitless searching later, and America zipped up the suitcase again. He got up and looked worriedly at his brother.

"It's not in there. I think it's been stolen."

Canada stared incredulously at America. "So… the enemy has it?" he whispered, his eyes going wide. "This isn't good; we need to call your boss right away."

"Thanks, bro, but I can't call my boss while we're in here," America said, dropping his voice to a whisper as well. "I'll call him when we're on the road."

The two brothers then left the building and headed to the parking lot. America quickly located the bright red car he had driven here. He popped the trunk, and he and Canada deposited their luggage. America jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine while Canada got in the passenger side. America pulled out of the lot, and a few minutes later, they were on their way back to America's house.

Twenty minutes into the drive, Canada dug into his pockets and pulled out his phone. He handed the phone over to America, who took one hand off the wheel to hold the phone and slowly dial the number that would connect him to the President.

"Hello, Canada," came the voice of America's boss. "This is unusual for you to call me directly; usually your prime minister does. What is it?"

"Actually, this is America," America said. "I'm borrowing Canada's phone at the moment because mine's been stolen."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure," America replied, slightly annoyed that his boss would doubt him.

"All right, well, where are you at the moment?"

"Driving back to my place. Canada and I just got back from the airport."

"And the meeting in London went well, I presume?"

"Actually, that's another reason why I'm calling," America said. "Something big has come up, as in, possibly-a-global-threat type big. It's kind of a long story, but here goes…"


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: For some reason, fight scenes are really fun to write. I don't claim to be particularly good at it, but it's fun nonetheless. Also, I probably could have had this up much earlier, if not for the little interlude with China and Japan at the beginning. That part was harder to write; dunno why.**

**I don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

Japan's route back to Tokyo included a stop in Beijing, so once he left the plane he quickly looked for someplace quiet and private so he could call his boss. During his walk through Beijing Capital International Airport, Japan decided it would be a better idea to visit China's house, and make the call from there. He pulled out his phone and called China.

"Yao, may I stay at your place for a little while before I return to my country?" Japan asked.

"Sure," China replied.

"Thank you; I'll be over there shortly."

Japan hung up and left the airport in a taxi. Although his Mandarin was a little rusty, Japan managed to successfully give directions to the driver in Mandarin, and in short order, Japan was on his way to China's house. However, China's house was a good distance away, so Japan relaxed in the back seat of the cab. He cleared his mind, preparing to do a mental sweep of his people.

He started in his capital and branched outward, checking all the governmental and industrial centers first. He made sure not to work too quickly, lest he miss something. If there were indeed any enemy bases in his country, and they had escaped detection so far, it was safe to assume they wouldn't be easy to find with these mental sweeps.

It took Japan a little over an hour to finish checking Tokyo. When he found nothing, he moved on. However, he did not get very far, as the cab pulled up to its destination and stopped. Japan thanked and paid the driver, then exited the car, carrying his suitcase under one arm. The cab drove off, and Japan approached the door of the building he now stood in front of. He knocked three times on the lacquer-finished wooden door, then stepped back to wait for an answer. The door opened almost immediately.

"Hello, Kiku; come in," China said, bowing in greeting first before showing Japan inside.

"Thank you," Japan said as he walked in. He set his suitcase beside the door and withdrew his phone from his pocket.

China offered Japan a seat on a recliner in the next room, then went upstairs. Japan sat down and entered his boss' number. When his boss picked up, Japan informed his boss of everything going on, as well as the plan the nations had devised. The conversation went surprisingly quickly, but by the time Japan hung up, China still had not come back down the stairs. Although he was curious, Japan knew it would be rude to go up there and intrude on whatever China was doing.

Japan considered resuming his sweep of his nation, but right then, China came back down the stairs carrying several different types of guns. Japan stood up, staring incredulously at the small arsenal in China's arms.

"There are enemy agents here in Beijing, aru," China explained. "I'm going to get rid of them, aru. Want to come?"

Japan thought about it. _I'm already here; I might as well. I should let my boss know about the change in plans first, though._

"All right, I'll come. But first, let me call my boss again…"

* * *

**(-)**

* * *

"All right. We'll discuss this more once you arrive in D.C."

"Thanks, dude."

America hung up the phone and handed it back to Canada, who proceeded to call his prime minister. Canada spent most of the rest of the drive talking to his boss, telling him pretty much the same things America had told his own boss. Not long after Canada hung up, America pulled into the driveway of his house and parked the car.

America opened the trunk and fetched their suitcases. He handed Canada's suitcase to him, then carried his own to the front door. Canada searched his pockets for the keys to his truck while America unlocked his front door and let himself in the house. He closed the door behind him, leaving Canada outside with the car. Canada ultimately managed to find his keys, and he opened the back door of his truck, depositing the suitcase in the back seat. A few seconds after closing the door, Canada heard a crash from inside America's house.

Meanwhile, America made his way through the house, up the stairs and heading for the bedroom, intending to dump his suitcase on the bed and unpack there. As he was walking down the hallway leading to the bedroom he heard footsteps not belonging to him.

"Tony?" America called, wondering if maybe his alien friend had dropped by to give him a surprise visit.

America took another step, and he thought he saw the silhouette of whoever it was. Whoever this was, it definitely was not Tony. For one thing, it was too tall, and had a much bigger build than the alien. It also appeared to be holding a gun. An intruder. One more step, and the figure came into view. America saw the man before the man saw him, and he hurled his suitcase at the stranger. The suitcase narrowly missed the man's head, crashing into the wall. The man disappeared around the corner.

"Get back here!" America yelled, running forward to retrieve his suitcase.

He checked around the corner, but there was no sign of the intruder. Swearing under his breath, America ripped open the suitcase at the seam, completely disregarding the zipper. The contents flew everywhere as America frantically searched for his gun. Once he found it, he grabbed it, and, making sure it was fully loaded, he got up and turned around.

Standing right in front of him was the intruder, who had a gun leveled at America's face. Not having the time to raise his own gun, America settled for kicking the man in the groin, then seizing him by the collar.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?!" America demanded.

America's question went unanswered. More footsteps approached from the hallway; America knew he was about to be surrounded. He dropped the intruder, but not before taking the man's gun away from him. Carrying both guns, America fled into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. Temporarily setting one gun on the dresser, America picked up his bed with one hand and dropped it in front of the door, barricading it. He took up the other gun and waited.

Outside the house, Canada was debating with himself whether or not he should go inside. Aside from the crash, there were also sounds of people shouting coming from inside the house. Canada wasn't sure if these noises were just America being… well, America, or if something was wrong. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and Canada went to the door and let himself in.

"America? Is everything okay in here?" Canada asked as loudly as he could manage.

America did not reply; instead, Canada heard more crashing coming from upstairs, near America's bedroom. Suddenly feeling apprehensive, Canada went into the kitchen. He looked through the knife drawer, looking for something that might work as a weapon if he ended up needing to defend himself or America. Once he picked a suitable knife, Canada ran back into the hall.

The sound of gunshots made him jump.

"Oh no…" Canada whispered. He ran towards the stairs, heading for the bedroom.

When he reached the bedroom, Canada found one man, dressed in a uniform much like those he's seen on the guards back in Germany, lying dead on the floor. The door to the bedroom lay several feet away, having been pried off its hinges somehow. America's bed was blocking the way into the bedroom.

Canada heard the sound of glass being broken from inside the bedroom. He pushed the bed out of the way and made his way into the room. He heard incoherent yelling, and a thud. Canada quickly located the broken window at the far end of the room and leaned out of it, looking to see if someone had jumped out. On the grass below was America, as well as another man in a guard's uniform. From the look of things, one had tried to throw the other out the window, but both ended up falling out.

America recovered first, and fired on the other man, killing him instantly. He looked up and noticed Canada in the window. Seeing that all Canada had was a knife, America knelt down and grabbed the dead guard's gun and tossed it up at the window. Canada caught it.

"Ambush!" America said. "I don't know how many of these guys there are!"

Canada nodded and turned around, gun at the ready. However, there were no enemies in the room. Cautiously, he made his way out of the bedroom again, searching the house for more guards. More gunshots were heard outside. Canada practically leapt down the stairs and sprinted to the front door.

He had to step back as someone kicked the door in. Canada only needed a brief glance at the person at the door to know it wasn't America. He opened fire. His enemy also managed to fire a few rounds before being hit, only one of which actually hit its target. The man collapsed in a pool of blood, and Canada stepped over him and went outside. Canada briefly stopped to inspect the wound in his arm, but quickly resumed his search for America.

On the other side of the house, America had hidden himself in some bushes planted nearby the wall. He carefully placed his guns among the branches, keeping the weapons well hidden, but still able to aim at a target. Another pair of men began heading towards the bushes, and America opened fire. The men fell.

_How many of these guys_ are _there?_ America wondered as he reloaded. The shouting he heard off in the distance told him that there were likely a lot more. He repositioned his guns, waiting for more to come along.

Somewhat to his surprise, Canada came around the corner of the building. The Canadian held his stolen gun at the ready, and he constantly glanced from side to side, as if frantically looking for someone. More armed men came charging from the opposite direction, firing at Canada, wounding him in the side. He staggered backwards a bit, letting out a soft cry of pain.

America saw red. He came charging out of the bushes, running headlong at the enemy, firing both guns. The enemy was mowed down in a matter of seconds, and America came to a halt. He whirled around and looked at his brother.

"You all right, bro?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Canada said. "You know that these wounds don't affect us like they do normal humans."

America smiled and nodded. "Let's go find the rest of these guys, then," he said. He took off, going around the corner of the house, heading back towards the front.

As soon as America had turned the corner and gone out of Canada's sight, a single shot rang out. Canada heard America scream in pain, followed by a soft thud as something heavy fell on the grass. Canada's blood froze, and he ran around the corner. He stopped in his tracks when he saw America lying on the grass, in a rapidly growing pool of blood.

"Alfred!" Canada screamed. He leveled his gun, looking for whoever had just shot his brother.

It didn't take long to find the culprit; a lone man standing next to a tree about twenty yards away. Canada took aim and fired. He saw the man double over as he was hit square in the chest, but within seconds, the man righted himself. Canada froze, eyes wide.

_How did he…?_

Canada fired again, this time aiming for the head. He hit his target, and the man fell. Canada kept his gun trained on the man, half expecting him to get up again. When he didn't, Canada put his gun away, satisfied that the headshot had done the trick. He then knelt at America's side.

"Alfred! America!" Canada said, turning America onto his back.

America was still conscious, but just barely. He was bleeding profusely from a bullet wound in his chest; and the blood had completely saturated his shirt and jacket. It took all of Canada' willpower for him not to panic. As far as the nations were concerned, not even "fatal" wounds bled this much, unless the nation in question had suffered substantial loss of life in a conflict.

Canada forced himself to not think of how or why America lay bleeding, possibly dying, in front of him; instead, he focused on how to stop the bleeding. He tore off strips of his own jacket and tried using them to bind the wound. America grimaced and groaned in protest.

"Relax, Alfred; this will help," Canada said, staining to keep panic out of his voice, and tightening the last strip. He dug in his pocket for his phone and dialed 911. As soon as he heard an operator on the other end, Canada began speaking.

"I need an ambulance! My brother's just been shot!" Canada said.

"Calm down, sir, we'll get an ambulance out there as soon as possible," the operator replied. "Is your brother still conscious?"

"Yeah, he seems to be breathing okay…" Canada said, looking down at America. _But he's losing a lot of blood… but he's a nation. He's not supposed to do that…_

"Have you tried administering any first aid yourself?" the operator asked.

"I've wrapped the wound in some torn up strips of my own jacket to try and stop the bleeding," Canada replied. "I think it's helping. A little."

"All right, well don't worry. An ambulance should arrive at your location within a few minutes," the operator said.

"Thank you," Canada said, and hung up.

"Ugh… I haven't been in this much pain… since the Civil War…" America groaned.

"You'll be okay, Alfred," Canada said, even though he was not entirely convinced himself. He glanced over at the tree where that man had been that Canada shot earlier.

At first, he Canada thought his eyes were playing a trick on him. He got up and squinted, but he saw no sign of the man who had been lying there just a minute ago. Canada uttered a mild curse in French under his breath and got his gun out.

_I could have sworn that headshot killed him,_ Canada thought._ It had to have; no one just gets right back up a minute after being shot in the head._

Despite wanting to go over to the tree and look for the man, Canada knew he couldn't risk leaving America's side. It could be some sort of trick; to get Canada distracted while the enemy came in to finish America off. All Canada could do was wait for the ambulance, and hope his improvised bandages would prevent America from bleeding out.

An agonizingly long ten minutes later, ambulance sirens were finally heard. The emergency vehicle pulled up right behind Canada's truck, and the paramedics came out. They quickly, yet carefully and gently lifted America onto a stretcher and took him back to the ambulance. Canada watched until the ambulance doors closed again, then slowly made his way back to his truck. He climbed into the driver's seat, and punched England's number into his phone.

"Hello, Canada? What is it? Did you find something?" England said.

"No…" Canada replied. He paused for a second, then, "To be more accurate, they found us. America and I got ambushed at America's house. We fought them off, but America's been shot-"

"What?!"

Canada winced as England practically shouted into the phone. There was a tiny, awkward pause before either one spoke again.

"What happened?!" England reiterated, though he took care to lower his voice.

"America was shot by one of their men," Canada said. "An ambulance just came and is taking him to the hospital now."

England was silent for several seconds. Eventually, someone in the background on England's end started talking.

"Give me a moment," England said, and he held the phone away from him and started talking to the other person.

For a few seconds, Canada thought he heard shouting; as if whatever was being discussed had escalated into a heated argument. About a minute later, and England spoke to Canada again.

"I'll be over there as soon as I can get a flight," England said.

"But, aren't you looking for your-"

"Scotland Yard's finest men are on that job, as is Scotland himself; I don't care how much he seems to think otherwise. Now, do you know which hospital America is being taken to?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Wow, 1800-and-some-odd words feels short in comparison to my more recent chapters. I don't know how you guys feel about chapter lengths, but this one is going to be a bit shorter than normal. There just isn't as much happening, I guess.**

**I do not own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

Even though Japan kept his katana with him, he accepted a handgun and a semiautomatic from China before hopping into the passenger seat of China's car. China adjusted the holsters of a couple of guns he had on his person before getting in the car himself. He put the rest of the guns in the back seat, covering them with a large blue cloth, then got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"How did you find them so quickly?" Japan asked as China pulled the car out into traffic.

"They only arrived this morning, aru," China replied. "And, they weren't exactly being careful about keeping themselves hidden either. I think that now they know we know about them, they're going to be much bolder in their actions from now on, aru."

Japan nodded his understanding. "I'll let the others know."

China made no reply. Japan pulled out his phone. After taking a few seconds to think it over, he decided to call Germany first. The German answered his phone immediately.

"Japan? What did you find?" Germany asked.

"China says there are enemy agents in Beijing," Japan replied. "I was staying at his house temporarily, and was going to catch the next flight to Tokyo, but China asked me to help him get rid of the enemy. We are on our way right now."

"I see," Germany said. "Have you found any enemy activity in your country?"

"I haven't been able to do a thorough search," Japan said. "But I have called my boss, and he says he hasn't found anything."

"Hmm…"

"Have you heard anything from the others?"

"Nothing yet."

"What about the substance that was in that syringe? Do we have any idea what it is yet?"

"Not yet."

"Very well."

Germany and Japan hung up. Meanwhile, China turned a corner unusually fast, startling Japan. Gripping the seatbelt, Japan shot China a questioning look.

"We're being followed, aru," China said, keeping his gaze focused on the road in front of him. "It's probably the enemy; get those guns ready."

Japan didn't even need to be told to do so. He already had one handgun out and cocked before China finished his sentence. Meanwhile, China took one hand off the wheel and pulled out one his own guns. He made as if to go straight at the next traffic light, but took a hard right at the last second. The dark blue car behind them did the same thing. At the next light, China turned right again. So did the car behind them.

Japan looked into the rear-view mirror. Just as he thought, the car was still following them; in fact, it was gaining on them. China was now resorting to changing lanes erratically, desperately trying to lose their follower in the Beijing traffic. For a few minutes, it appeared he had been successful. Then, at the next light, as China pulled into the intersection, a dark blue car appeared to the left, running the red light and ramming into China's car.

China swore under his breath in Mandarin as he tore his seatbelt off. He hid his gun under his jacket and opened the car door, quickly climbing out. Japan followed suit. Around them, bystanders were starting to gather. China looked around, muttering under his breath some more. Meanwhile, over in the dark blue car, its passengers exited the vehicle as quickly as they could. The driver got out and looked straight at China and Japan, pointing at China and yelling in Cantonese.

"Do they really want a confrontation out here on the streets?!" China said.

"_Wang Yao! Surrender now, or we will take you by force!" _the driver yelled.

"That sounds like a 'yes'," Japan noted.

The agents charged. China and Japan whipped their weapons out and fired. Within seconds, the group was wiped out.

"That was too easy, aru," China said.

"I agree. Something's not right here," Japan said.

Someone opened fire on them from somewhere in the crowd of bystanders. The crowd promptly panicked, and people began running in all directions and screaming. A few people got caught in the crossfire and fell bleeding on the asphalt.

"We need to take this fight off the streets," Japan said. While dodging bullets, he cast about for somewhere to lure the enemy away from the street.

A bullet grazed Japan's shoulder as he took off in the direction of the sidewalk. He ran until he came to a narrow alley, where he went in, waiting for the enemy to follow. Seeing what Japan was up to, China followed him. China ran into the alley, leading a line of enemy agents behind him. When the first one came into the alley, Japan jumped out of seemingly nowhere, making short work of his opponent with his katana. China spun around and fired his gun on the others.

Meanwhile, back out on the streets, a small military force had arrived, dispersing the bystanders, and assisting China and Japan in taking out the remainder of the enemy force. Once the fighting was over, China came out of the alley and began speaking with the commander of the small Chinese military force. While he waited for China, Japan cleaned the blood off his katana and sheathed it. Presently, China finished talking and went back to the alley to talk to Japan.

"We're safe for the time being, aru," China said. "Let's go back to my place."

"What about your car?" Japan asked.

China looked at his car, which was now a wreck, still sitting in the middle of the intersection, right next to the wreck of the dark blue car that the enemy had been using. Ambulances were starting to arrive on the scene to take wounded bystanders to the nearest hospital.

"Go wait for me back at my place, aru," China said. "I'll take care of this. It shouldn't take too long, aru."

* * *

**(-)**

* * *

As soon as the plane landed, and passengers were allowed to turn their phones back on, England got his out and called Canada immediately.

"Yes?" the Canadian said.

"How is he?" England asked.

"He's recovering from surgery right now. I just visited him about an hour ago. He seems to be healing, but not as fast as he should."

England frowned, wondering what Canada meant by 'not as fast as he should'. Different wounds healed at different rates, especially depending on how the nation got the wound in the first place. He decided he'd worry about that later.

"That's good to hear. Now, remind me; he's in Bellevue, right?"

"Right."

"I'll be there shortly." England hung up.

Pocketing the phone, the Englishman then gathered his things and exited the plane. After a brief wait at baggage claim, England left the terminal and took a taxi out of the airport. He told the driver to take him to Bellevue Hospital Center, then sat back and stared out at traffic for the duration of the trip. When at last the taxi arrived at its destination, England paid the driver then hurried inside.

"Excuse me," England said as he arrived at one of the counters. "I'm here to visit Alfred Jones. Can you tell me where he is?"

"Family of yours?"

England nodded.

One moment please…"

The receptionist looked through the computer for a minute. As soon as she found it, she gave England the number for the room 'Alfred Jones' was in. England thanked her, and walked briskly over to the elevator. He got on and pushed the button for the floor he needed. When the elevator stopped and opened the doors, England hurried out and looked for America's room. England found it, and let himself in.

America lay on the bed, the sheets drawn up only to his waist. He was hooked up to a heart monitor, and had an IV sticking out of his left arm. His chest was completely covered in bandages. England set his luggage down, but chose to ignore the empty chair beside the bed.

"How are you feeling?" England asked.

"I'm fine," America said.

England stiffened. "'Fine'? Fine?!" he exclaimed.

America frowned. "Dude, calm down," he said. England ignored him.

"You were shot! From the looks of things, you almost died! And all you can say is that you're 'fine'?"

America still looked as if he didn't know what England was talking about. "I'm healing just fine now. As soon as I recover-"

"What makes you think they'll give you the _chance_ to fully recover?" England said. "They know you're injured, and will probably try to finish you off before that injury heals!"

"But…"

England let out a long, exasperated sigh. "You don't _get it_, do you? They just tried to kill you, but since they were unsuccessful, they are going to try again. And they'll do it while you're still vulnerable; before you're back to full strength."

England paused to let his words sink in. The room was filled with tense silence while America contemplated England's words, and England stood there waiting for his former colony to respond. During the silence, an oddly sickening sense of nostalgia washed over England; it occurred to him that he'd had this argument with America before. He searched his memory, trying to recall the specific instance in which he'd given America this lecture.

It took a matter of seconds for England to regret his brief trip down memory lane.

He'd given America this warning several times throughout the course of the American Revolution, and at least once during the War of 1812. However, one particular instance sprung to mind; one that took place not long after America had declared independence, and England found himself unable to rid himself of the mental picture. He began shaking uncontrollably as he desperately fought back what he knew was coming.

Quickly covering his mouth with a handkerchief from his pockets, England went into a violent coughing fit. It only lasted a few seconds, but when he was done, the British nation's handkerchief was covered in blood that he had coughed up.

"Dude, you okay?" America asked.

"I'll be fine, you git," England replied, looking for a trash bin in order to discard the handkerchief.

America looked unconvinced. "What happened?"

England straightened himself. "I warned you," he muttered. "Several times… I told you… the enemy will strike you when you're most vulnerable."

"I bet you did," America said. "But that's not why you're coughing up blood."

"No," England agreed. "It's just… I remember from back in the Revolution... not long after you had declared independence… General Howe and I had you and Washington cornered. Trapped. I warned you that our forces could – and would – finish off you and your rebel forces right then and there, where they were most vulnerable."

America looked confused. "When was this?" he asked.

"August 1776, don't you remember?" England said, incredulous. "The Battle of Long Island? That blasted fog that saved you and your revolution?"

America still looked blank. "I don't remember that," he said. "Are you sure that actually happened?"

England froze. "Of course it happened, you bloody git," he said. "How do you not remember that?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Oh boy, the writer's block I had on this chapter. This is another short one, but there's a LOT of talking. More major stuff gets revealed, so yeah. Lots of fun.**

**For what it's worth, I still don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

Germany paced back and forth in front of his couch. He and his government had put together a swift and thorough investigation force, but even if there were more enemy bases in his country, it might take a while before they were found. In the meantime, Germany waited in his house. He had already checked his people twice now, but he knew he couldn't rely on that alone.

On a whim, Germany turned on the television. At the moment, a news reporter was in the middle of a story on the explosion in Brandenburg. The reporter was saying much the same things other reporters from earlier news broadcasts had already said; that the explosion was still under investigation, and police digging through the rubble had so far only found bodies, not survivors. Of course, Germany knew full well what the real story was, but since revealing it to the public would also reveal the existence of the nations, the truth was being kept under wraps.

Suddenly feeling a little thirsty, Germany headed to his fridge to look for a drink. He pulled out a bottle of beer and headed back to the couch, deciding to actually sit down to enjoy his drink. As he sat down, the news channel changed to a different story, having something to do the American ambassador to Lithuania. While only partially paying attention to the reporter's words, something else on the screen caught the German's eye.

The American ambassador stood among several other individuals, three of which looked very familiar. Shaking hands with the ambassador was a man that looked like Lithuania himself, albeit in far better condition than the last time Germany had seen him. When those two finished shaking hands, Lithuania shook hands with the other familiar individual; a tall, blond man wearing glasses and a bomber jacket. The third person did not shake anyone's hand, but on close inspection, Germany realized this man strongly resembled the pictures of Charles.

_What the hell is America doing in Lithuania? He's supposed to be back in his country, investigating… Perhaps his investigation led him here? But, isn't that 'Charles' right there? Does he not recognize him?_

At that instant, Germany's phone rang. He set his beer down and grabbed the phone, answering it.

"Hello?" he said.

"Germany, I think we've got an emergency on our hands," England said, his tone of voice betraying a sense of panic.

"What happened? Does it involve your spellbooks?"

"It's worse than that; America's been shot. He's in the hospital, recovering."

Germany paused, looking at the TV again. America, Lithuania, Charles and the ambassador were walking into a building, and the camera returned its focus to the reporter.

"How…?" Germany muttered. _Unless this man just happens to look like America, and is wearing a similar jacket for some reason…_ _something's wrong here._

"Pardon? What was that?" England asked.

"He's in the hospital, you said?" Germany said, returning his focus to the conversation.

"Yes; he's been shot in the chest, and is recovering unusually slowly. I just talked to him, and I think he's losing his memory too."

At that moment, Prussia walked into the room.

"What's going on, West?" he asked.

Germany waved his hand to get his brother to be quiet. "Why do you think that?" he asked England.

"While we were talking, we got on the subject of… some things that happened in his past," England explained. "And, he seems to have completely forgotten some things."

"What things?" Germany asked.

England gave a brief explanation. When he finished, Germany did not respond immediately, but rather tried to think of what this might mean. Prussia stood silently next to the German, partially listening in on the conversation, and partially watching the television.

"Well, that was just one battle among many," Germany said at last.

"And you know full well that we nations don't just 'forget' battles," England said. "Even if he didn't remember all the details, he should at least remember that it _happened._ He's convinced it never even took place."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

"I'm going to arrange another emergency meeting," Germany said.

"Germany, I really don't think we have the time to call everyone in again-" England interjected.

"I know," Germany said. "We can't call _everyone._"

"Then who are you calling? And where are we meeting this time?" England asked.

There was a knock at Germany's door.

"I'll get it," Prussia said, leaving the room.

Seconds later, he returned to the room, with France in tow. The Frenchman was carrying a briefcase and the syringe with the mysterious drug.

"I think I have a guess as to what this is," France said, indicating the syringe.

"What's going on over there?" England said, having heard the voices of Prussia and France, but not quite being able to distinguish their words.

"France just arrived," Germany explained. "He says he has an idea as to what that drug might be." Germany put the phone on speaker so England could hear what France had to say.

France set his briefcase and the syringe down on the table. Clearing his throat, he began his explanation.

"As I said at the last meeting, this is unlike anything any of us have seen," France said. "I'm not quite sure how to describe it. The best I can come up with is that it's actually a weird type of virus, not a drug."

"A virus," England said. "So, this organization is trying to infect us with disease?"

Prussia gave a derisive snort. Germany glared at his brother, who quickly returned to a serious expression.

"_Non,_" France said. "Not a disease, per se…"

"Well then, what?"

"Whatever it is, it can only affect a nation," France started. "I tried a bit of it in a sample of human blood, and nothing happened. However, it occurred to me that since they had been trying to infect a nation with this, I decided to test it on a small sample of my own blood."

"And what happened?" Germany asked.

"The blood… started changing," France said. "I mean, it was still blood, but after a while, it had… changed." He shrugged, looking confused and frustrated.

"Changed how?" Prussia asked.

"Well, when I compared it to a second sample of my own blood, which had not been affected by the drug – virus…" France said. "They didn't match. At all. It was as if it wasn't even my blood anymore."

Deafening silence fell on the room. Germany and France looked utterly baffled, while Prussia looked thoughtful. The silence was ultimately broken by England, however.

"Well, if it wasn't 'your' blood, whose was it?" England asked, his voice tinged with a blend of genuine curiosity as well as sarcasm.

"An ordinary human, probably," Prussia said. Germany and France shot him a surprised look. "Well, think about it. Lithuania got infected with that while in captivity, right? When he was complaining of headaches that prevented him from being able to hear his people, I got to wondering, because the same thing happened to me."

France shot Prussia another look. "When?" he asked.

"1947. My country was dissolved by the Allies. I had lost my status as a nation, and shortly afterward started getting headaches like the ones Lithuania described," Prussia said.

"Are you saying that this-" Germany said, pointing at the syringe. "Made Lithuania lose his status as a nation? Turned him mortal?"

"Yes." Prussia folded his arms, but for once, he did not look smug while doing so. He actually looked a little scared.

"It sounds too absurd to believe," France said, staring at the syringe.

"But I think he's right," England cut in. "I don't think anyone other than Canada, Scotland, Germany and myself knows of this yet, but America's been shot."

"What does that have to do with this?" France asked.

"Because, from what Canada told me, America almost bled out before the ambulance arrived," England said. "I just checked the news. I didn't see anything happening in the United States that might have been the cause for such a severe injury, so that bullet wound should not have affected him as much as it did. Furthermore, he seems to be losing his memories. Nations don't do that."

"Has he been complaining of headaches?" Prussia asked suddenly.

"Not that I know of; but somehow, I wouldn't be surprised if he was," England replied. "Why?"

"If Lithuania was turned human while in captivity, maybe the same thing happened to America," Prussia said.

"But they didn't, remember?" France said. "Estonia and Latvia smuggled the drug out before-"

"Oh come on, France, you really think that was the only one they had?" Prussia said. "As you recall, Scotland's group found Estonia unconscious right next to America. I think Estonia got found out, so they sedated him and then injected America with the drug from a spare syringe. It's the only way to explain what's happening to him now."

"If that's the case, then it's possible Estonia has been infected as well," Germany said. "That would make at least three of us in mortal danger already…"

"America only survived because Canada was there with him," England said, panic starting to edge into his voice. "And I strongly suspect our enemy is going to make a second attempt to kill him soon."

Germany set the phone on the table, resting his chin in both hands and looking thoughtful. Prussia and France kept their attention focused on the German, waiting for him to say something. From the phone, there was also silence as England waited for a response.

"Where is Canada now?" Germany said.

"When he left the hospital after visiting America, he said something about talking to the police," England replied. "But how will that help?"

"Well, as soon as you can, contact him. And get America out of the hospital as soon as possible," Germany said. He turned his attention to France. "In the meantime, France, I need you to start looking for a way to reverse this… virus, or whatever it is."

France nodded.

"What about everyone else?" England asked. "You said something about an emergency meeting?"

"Like you said earlier, there's no time to get everyone together," Germany said. "I'll send everyone a message, informing them of what's happened. However, a few of us will still meet."

"Who is meeting, and where?" Prussia asked.

"Well, it will depend on if the others are currently busy," Germany said. He looked over at the television, which was currently showing a weather report. "But, some of us need to go pay Charles a visit."

Prussia smirked. "So, we take the fight directly to him," he said. "Awesome."

"One last thing, Germany," England said.

"What is it?" Germany asked.

"What do we do with America once he's out of the hospital?"

"Yes, I was getting to that," Germany said. "I have a plan; I don't know how well it will work, given how… uncooperative America can be at times."

England made a coughing sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"At any rate, here's what to do…" Germany began.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: There's some mention of historical events in this chapter, but they're not really the focus of the story. I'll explain them a bit at the end of the chapter for those of you that are curious. **

**Don't own Hetalia; just doing this for fun. Enjoy.**

* * *

China seemed to be taking an unusually long time to return to his house. Japan had let himself inside over an hour ago, patiently waiting on the couch for the elder nation to return. After waiting the first twenty minutes with no sign of China, Japan had tried checking his people again. He felt a mix of surprise and relief when his searching turned up no sign of enemy activity in his country.

_Then again, those agents we fought on the streets earlier had specifically asked for China to surrender,_ Japan thought._ They didn't seem to be as concerned with me. There must be a specific reason they're going after China instead._

At that moment, China came through the door, carrying all the guns he had had on his person earlier. He went straight to the stairs, presumably to drop the weapons off. When he came back down, the guns were gone. In their place was a laptop computer. China sat down beside Japan and turned the laptop on.

"What are you doing?" Japan asked.

"I just wanted to see if anything's happening with the others, aru," China said as he began typing.

"I think you should also tell them what happened," Japan said.

China nodded in reply and continued to look at his computer screen.

"I have a message from Germany, aru," China remarked, clicking on the message in question.

The two Asian nations read the message. By the time they finished, both had paled and were staring at the screen in alarm. They exchanged glances before Japan finally spoke.

"How were they even able to come up with a way to turn us mortal?" Japan said.

China could only shrug in response. Japan looked at the last few sentences of Germany's message again. He rested his fingers on his katana, as if ready to draw the weapon. His expression slowly morphed from one of shock to one of anger, and his eyes flashed with the fury of a warrior eager for battle.

"I'm with Germany," Japan said. "We need to visit this Charles and put an end to this."

China nodded and began typing a reply to Germany's message. After he sent the reply, he closed the laptop and took it back upstairs. A few minutes later, he came back downstairs with his suitcase.

"Get your suitcase, aru," China said. "We leave for the next flight to Berlin."

**(-)**

The next morning after visiting America in the hospital, England and Canada found themselves back at the same hospital; except this time, they weren't here to simply visit. Germany's instructions had been to get America out of the hospital as quickly as possible. England and Canada were here to carry those instructions out.

They entered the hospital on the pretense of visiting 'Alfred F. Jones' again. When asked for their relation to Jones, Canada had said he was his twin, while England claimed to be an adoptive elder brother. Apparently satisfied, the receptionist let them go, and the two nations made their way to America's room. Not much had changed since yesterday; America still had the IV and heart monitor, and his bandages appeared to have been changed recently. He gave England and Canada confused looks when he saw them enter.

"Why are you guys coming in here two days in a row?" America asked. "What's going on?"

"We're getting you out of here," England replied bluntly.

"Um, will they let you do that?" America asked. "The nurses don't think I'll be ready to leave for at least another day."

"Sod the nurses, we have more pressing matters to attend to," England said. "Can you at least walk around all right? I don't want to have to take the entire gurney out of here."

America frowned and sat upright. "I think so," he said. He slowly put his feet on the floor and pushed himself off the bed. After walking around the tiny room for a bit, he glanced at England.

"All right," England said. He turned to go.

"Alfred, you might want to take the IV out," Canada said.

"Right." America grabbed it and yanked it out. Blood spattered all over his arm, as well as on the floor and the gurney. Canada quickly located some gauze and bandaged America's arm.

"Let's get out of here," England said. He went toward the door.

Canada reached into his coat and pulled out a change of clothes – a T-shirt and a pair of shorts – and handed them to America. America quickly dressed and followed Canada and England out of the room. They walked quietly along the hallways, looking for the elevator. Once they found it, they went inside. England pushed the button for the ground floor.

The elevator reached the ground floor, and the doors opened. England left first, followed by Canada, then America. They made their way to the exit without being stopped by any of the nurses. England led the group to the parking lot, where they quickly located Canada's truck. Canada got his keys out and unlocked the truck. America claimed shotgun, while England sat in the back. Canada drove them out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" America asked.

"My house," Canada said.

"What? Why?"

"Because if the enemy knows where one of your houses is, it's safe to assume they know where the rest are. They seem to be after you specifically, so we need to get you somewhere safe – outside the U.S. – so they won't find you," England replied.

"Oh come on," America said indignantly. "You're overreacting. There's no need to send me into hiding just because I got shot once…"

England paled. "Just 'once'?!" he said. "That one shot nearly killed you!"

"But I'm fine now," America protested. "And as soon as I can, I'm going after this Charles guy. I'll take him down myself, you'll see!"

"America, you don't understand; they almost_ killed_ you!" England said. "You're a nation; that's not supposed to be possible!"

"Exactly!" America shot back. "That shot may have hurt like hell, but they couldn't kill me because they can't kill nations."

"Actually, yes they can," Canada cut in.

America shot his brother a double take. "What?"

"To be specific, they can kill _you_," England said. "And Lithuania, and possibly Estonia."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember that base in Brandenburg?" England said. "After you got captured, they gave you some kind of – thing – that turned you mortal."

"It explains that headache you got on the plane, and your sudden memory loss," Canada added. "You're slowly losing your status as a nation."

America's eyes went wide. "You… you're kidding, right? That's impossible… isn't it?"

"You don't believe us?" England asked, his tone slightly accusatory. "Then tell me… what happened on December 16, 1773? What were you and a handful of your citizens doing that evening?"

America furrowed his brow as he searched his memory. He knew that date was significant in his history, but was baffled at his sudden inability to recall just _what_ he did that was so significant. The truck was silent for a good two minutes while America racked his brains, vainly trying to remember what happened. Eventually, he gave up, and only offered England a blank look and a shrug as his answer.

Although he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, England still couldn't help but feel a little shocked that America had no memory of the Boston Tea Party. England took a brief moment to regain his composure, then continued.

"Let's try another one…" he began.

"July 25, 1814," Canada interrupted.

There was silence again as America searched his memory a second time. Judging by the date, it was probably one of the battles in the War of 1812. It took him a minute, but finally it came to him.

"The Battle of Lundy's Lane?" America said.

"Yes," Canada said.

"But you had trouble remembering that one," England added. "Do you see now?"

"Okay, okay, I get it," America said. "But I'm not going to sit back and do nothing."

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice," England said. "And, another thing; you're not going to be doing absolutely nothing."

"Well then what am I going to be doing?"

"You're going to be staying at Canada's house for a bit," England said.

"That sounds like doing nothing to me," America grumbled.

"Will you shut up and let me explain?" England said. "You're only going to be staying there for a short time. It's part of the plan I discussed with Germany yesterday."

"What plan?" America asked. "Since when was there a plan?"

"The plan to catch Charles," England replied. "Germany says he knows where he is, and some of us are going after him."

America frowned. "Is he in Canada then?" he asked.

"No," Canada said. "But we need to-"

"Then why are we going to Canada's place if Charles isn't there?!" America interrupted.

"Shut up!" England said. "If you'll stop interrupting, you'll know why!"

There was a brief, silent pause. By now, the group had almost made it out of the Manhattan area. At the moment, Canada had the truck stopped at a traffic light. England took a breath and continued his explanation.

"In order to both catch Charles and keep you safe from any future attempts on your life," England began. "Germany decided that you and Canada need to temporarily switch places."

America turned around and shot England a quizzical look.

"It's risky," England admitted. "But it's better than just hiding you somewhere and hoping they don't find you. The idea is that, because Canada looks so much like you, the enemy could be fooled into thinking that he is you. They'll go after him, while you; being disguised as Canada, will go safely unnoticed."

The truck began moving again. America leaned back in the seat, looking forward again. There was another pause.

"Do you really think that'll work?" America asked.

"As long as you lay low, and don't do anything stupid, I don't see why it shouldn't work," England replied. "But that's the crucial thing; you _must_ keep a low profile, at least for a little while."

"In other words: do nothing," America muttered.

"Pretending to be Canada does not amount to _nothing_," England snapped. "You just can't draw attention to yourself is all."

America sighed heavily. He cast a quick, nervous glance over at his brother, who had his gaze fixed on the road ahead. It was difficult to tell how the conversation was affecting the Canadian; he was doing a remarkable job of keeping his face expressionless as he drove along in the New York traffic. There was uncomfortable silence in the vehicle all the way to the state line.

**(-)**

Seated at the desk in his study, Scotland carelessly tossed his cigarette away, not even checking if it had landed in the tray he had aimed for. He sorted through the mess of photographs and papers on his desk, arranging them into a single manila folder. Taking up the folder under one arm, Scotland switched off the lamp that sat on the far end of the desk and rose to his feet. He headed toward the door, which was hanging ajar, letting in light from the hallway. Scotland eased the door the rest of the way open and left the room.

Waiting for him in the foyer was the same Scotland Yard detective that had met him and England at England's house earlier. Scotland handed the folder to the detective, who promptly hid it in the briefcase he had lying on the floor next to him.

"It's not like there's a whole lot in there," Scotland said. "We still don't have anything significant in the way of leads."

Scotland sat down on one of the chairs near the wall. The detective picked up the briefcase and went out the front door. For several minutes, Scotland sat alone in the foyer, rubbing his forehead and trying to think of what to do next. He pulled a smartphone out of his pocket, and, on a whim, checked the news. After scrolling through several stories, one of them caught Scotland's eye. The headline was saying something about the American embassy in Lithuania, but the accompanying picture was what made Scotland stop.

America, Lithuania, and a man that looked unmistakably like Charles, stood together in the center of a group of other people.

_Am I seeing this right? Did America and Lithuania find Charles already? _Scotland stared intently at the picture as if trying to be sure he wasn't imagining things.

_Wait a minute… England left to visit America in a hospital in the United States!_ Scotland suddenly realized. _There's no way he could be at the embassy in Lithuania! What the hell is going on here?_

Scotland didn't even bother to read the news story. He punched in England's number instead. A few seconds later, England picked up.

"Scotland? Did you find my spellbooks?" England asked.

"No, but I think I _did_ find Charles," Scotland replied.

"Yes, I know; Germany told me that he knows where Charles is, and that he's going to lead a group of us to go after him," England replied.

"Oh aye?" Scotland said. "Did he tell you that America and Lithuania were with him?"

"No…" England said. "That's impossible; America's sitting in front of me in the passenger seat of Canada's truck. Why are you trying to tell me that he's somewhere else?"

"I'm not; I'm trying to tell you we've got an imposter on our hands. How come Germany didn't tell you this?"

England was about to reply, but America started talking in the background. The two argued for a bit, then England returned to the conversation with Scotland.

"I'm not sure why he would do that," England said. "Maybe he wasn't even aware. I suggest you talk to him."

"Right." Scotland hung up. _Well, I can't call him just yet. First things first… I need to get that detective back here and tell him about this. And, I really need a drink…_

* * *

__**Notes: December 16, 1773 is the date of the Boston Tea Party. A bunch of colonists snuck on board a ship in Boston Harbor and dumped the entire shipment of tea overboard as a protest against the Tea Act.**

**July 25, 1814: Battle of Lundy's Lane. It was the bloodiest battle in the war of 1812, and it was fought in what is now present-day Niagara Falls, Ontario. While it was largely indecisive, it was technically a British victory.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Um... I'm not sure what to say about this chapter. There's not a whole lot of interesting stuff going on; that happens next chapter, I'm afraid. (tiny, tiny spoiler: more fight scenes)**

**I don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

"All right, I think this is everyone," Germany said.

He took a moment to survey the group of nations seated at the table in front of him. Japan and China sat in tense silence on the far end of the table, while Prussia and Scotland sat across from each other at the end of the table closer to Germany. Germany knew Japan and China were here because of the message he had sent out, but it seemed they were the only ones; Scotland had apparently seen the news report first, and had come here thinking it would lead him to England's stolen spellbooks. And Prussia had been in Germany's house the whole time; he already knew what was going on, and was ready to act alongside his brother.

"This will have to do," Germany continued. "France is working with some of the other nations on trying to come up with a way to reverse this thing that's happened to America and Lithuania, and England, Canada and America are busy on the other side of the Atlantic."

"One moment, Germany," Japan said. "Have you heard anything from the Baltics or Russia? Since we're headed to that area…"

Germany shook his head. "I sent them the message, but none of them have replied yet."

"Call them," Scotland suggested.

"I left messages on Russia and Lithuania's phones," Germany said. "I've got no replies to those either."

"Don't you think we've wasted enough time already?" Prussia cut in. "I say we stop with the chitchat, and go in there, and kick Charles' ass!"

"I'm with Prussia; the longer we wait, the less time we have to catch him," Japan said. "There's no telling how long he'll stay there, or where he'll go next. We _have_ to get him now, while we know where he is."

"Right; it's decided then," Germany said. "Let's go."

The five nations gathered their things and headed to the door. Germany opened the door, and everyone filed out one by one. As soon as Germany closed the door, the Italy brothers pulled up in a black car. Italy rolled down the driver's side window.

"Germany! I'm so sorry we're late! Romano and I are coming with you guys!"

On the passenger side, Romano mumbled under his breath. Germany let out a sigh.

"All right, but you'll have to follow us. There's not enough room in my car for everyone," Germany said.

He pulled his car keys out of his coat pocket and led Prussia, Scotland, Japan and China to his spacious Volkswagen, unlocking the door. He waited for everyone to put on their seat belts, then revved the engine and began driving them to the airport. The Italy brothers followed close behind.

The drive to the airport went smoothly. They pulled into the parking lot, and the two groups parked next to each other and made their way into the airport. Less than an hour after arriving, the seven nations found themselves on a Lufthansa flight bound for Lithuania. The flight itself also went fairly smoothly, save for a little bit of turbulence near the beginning of the flight.

After the plane landed, the nations had to wait a bit for each other to get off, having been spread apart in the cabin during the flight. There was an even longer wait at baggage claim, but eventually, Germany led his fellow nations out of the airport. They then called some cabs that would take them to their destination. Germany and Prussia got in the first cab, the Italy brothers had the second, and Scotland, Japan, and China managed to fit into the third.

"Hey West," Prussia said, leaning back against the seat. "Do you think they're even still there?"

"If they're not, we should be able to find them," Germany replied. "I don't think they've left the country yet, at least."

Meanwhile, in the second cab, Italy toyed with a miniature white flag. Romano tried to pay as little attention as possible to his brother, although he did roll his eyes and swear under his breath. The third cab was silent as Japan and China merely stared out the window. Scotland, on the other hand, had his phone out and was sending a text to England, updating him on the current situation. He sent the text, then put his phone away and stared at the floor of the cab.

**(-)**

At long last, Canada parked his car in the garage of his house in Ottawa. He, England and America got out and went straight inside, although they made sure to approach carefully; they did not want a repeat of what happened in New York. When they entered the house, the only thing waiting for them was Canada's bear Kumajirou. Upon seeing his owner, the bear gave Canada the usual greeting.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Canada, your owner," Canada said. He led America and England past his bear and into the living room.

England and Canada deposited their suitcases on the floor beside the couch. England and America reclined on the couch while Canada headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Kumajirou wandered off to a different section of the house. A few minutes later, Canada returned with two cups of coffee, which he set on the coffee table.

"Keep my phone. You're probably going to need it." Canada tossed his phone over to America, who caught it and gave his twin a quizzical look.

"You're going to be posing as Canada, remember?" England said. He turned his attention to Canada. "Canada, would you by chance happen to have any good tea in the house?"

"I think so," Canada replied, taking off for the kitchen again. He later returned with a cup of hot tea, handing it to England.

"Okay, now what?" America asked.

"America, you've visited this house a couple of times; do you remember where everything is?" Canada said.

America looked thoughtful. "Yeah," he said finally. "But what am I supposed to be doing?"

"You're going to wait here and pretend to be Canada while Canada and I head to Washington, D.C. Meanwhile, we're going to have a word with your president," England replied. "While we're there, use this place as a vantage point to keep an eye on things. If anything comes up, call Canada's prime minister."

"Wait, hang on; are we going to tell our bosses about the switch?" America asked.

"Absolutely not," England said. "While I don't believe either of your bosses is collaborating with the enemy, we still can't risk them knowing about this. If this is going to work, we have to deceive both allies and enemies."

There was a break in the conversation as the three nations stopped to sip their drinks. America set his coffee down first and spoke again.

"What about the other nations?"

"As far as I know, only Germany, and possibly Prussia and France are aware of this," England replied. "We're not going to tell our fellow nations either."

"Right." America sipped some more of his coffee and looked contemplative. "When are you leaving for D.C.?"

"As soon as possible."

"But not just yet," Canada added. "There's a couple things we have to do first."

"Like what?" America asked.

Canada put his coffee down and left the room. He went upstairs into his bedroom, where he remained for several minutes. England finished his tea and returned the empty cup to the kitchen. He came back to the couch, looking at the stairs as if waiting for Canada to come back down. America also stared quizzically at the stairs. He and England exchanged glances.

"What is he doing up there?" England wondered aloud.

"Dunno," America replied with a shrug.

Finally, Canada came back downstairs. He had changed clothes; he was now wearing a black suit jacket and slacks, and a plain white collared shirt with a "stars and stripes" themed tie. While America snickered at the tie, what really caught his attention was what Canada had done to his hair. Apparently, Canada had not only changed clothes, but had also cut his hair to look exactly like America's.

"Canada…" England said. "What have you done to your hair?"

"Are you sure that was necessary, bro?" America asked. "I mean, since you get so easily mistaken for me anyway…"

Canada ran his fingers through his newly cut hair. "I thought it might be a good idea anyway," he replied. "If this is going to work, I need to look as much like you as possible."

"I think I see his logic," England said. "It's possible that our enemy can distinguish some of the subtle differences in appearance between you two. This will make it harder for them to tell."

"What about me then?" America asked. "I can't exactly grow my hair out overnight."

"Buy a wig or something," England suggested.

Canada went over to where the suitcases lay and picked his up, taking it upstairs. England and America waited in silence yet again. When Canada came back down, he was still holding the suitcase in one hand, but in the other he held a change of clothes for America. America accepted the clothes from his brother, and hurried to the bathroom to change. Meanwhile, Canada went into the garage.

Shortly after Canada returned from the garage, sans suitcase, America emerged from the bathroom, wearing the jeans, shirt and plaid jacket Canada had given him a minute ago. England was about to pick up his suitcase when Kumajirou came back in the room. The bear looked back and forth between America and Canada, looking genuinely confused.

"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked, although this time, the question seemed to be directed at America and Canada simultaneously.

England looked pointedly at America. America looked confused for a second, then he realized what England was trying to get him to do.

"I'm Canada, your owner," America said, making an effort to make his voice as soft as possible.

"Yep, and I'm his brother, America!" Canada said, making a similar effort to sound loud and enthusiastic. There was an awkward silence, but then Kumajirou went and stood at America's side, apparently convinced.

England covered his mouth and faked a cough to hide his laughter. These two were better at imitating each other than he thought. This was a good thing; England had secretly been worrying that the ruse wouldn't work because America or Canada wouldn't be able to a convincing impression of the other, and their mannerisms would end up blowing their cover. Although the display was amusing to watch initially, England couldn't help but breathe a small sigh of relief as well.

"All right America, we need to go," England said, grabbing his suitcase and heading for the garage. Canada followed him. A minute later, the sound of a car engine being revved was heard. England and Canada were leaving.

America sat down on the couch. Within seconds, Kumajirou had climbed onto the spot next to him.

"Hey Canada, what were America and England doing here?" Kumajirou asked. "Were they just here to visit?"

"Yeah," America said. "Ow…"

Out of nowhere, America started feeling a throbbing pain in his temples. He rubbed at the sides of his head, as if to massage the pain away, but he already knew that wouldn't work. He got up, first looking in the kitchen, then in the bathroom for a medicine cabinet. Once he found it, he grabbed the Tylenol. America made himself another cup of coffee, taking the painkillers with a sip of the hot beverage. Returning to the couch, America lay down on it, with Kumajirou sitting beside him.

"Are you okay?" Kumajirou asked.

America shook his head, giving up on the couch and going upstairs to the bedroom instead. He collapsed onto Canada's bed just in time for the pain of the headache to instantly triple, causing America to bite his tongue to stop himself from screaming. At the same time, the voices of the American people suddenly vanished from America's mind.

_Not again…_

**(-)**

Russia stood in front of Lithuania's house with Latvia and Estonia. The two Baltics looked as terrified as ever as they cautiously eyed the lead pipe that the much taller Russian nation was carelessly swinging and playing with.

"And Lithuania has not left his house at all since he arrived home?" Russia asked.

"That's right," Estonia said quickly. "He briefly talked with his boss, but since then, he hasn't seen anyone. Not even us."

"Then how is he meeting with America and that ambassador over at the embassy then?" Russia asked.

"That's not Lithuania, we swear!" Latvia said. "It must be an imposter!"

"An imposter, hmm?" Russia said, now swinging the pipe in a wide circle. The two Baltic nations backed away nervously. "Are you sure?"

"Lithuania's inside; you can ask him yourself!" Estonia said, gesturing at Lithuania's front door.

Russia rested his free hand on Estonia's shoulder, causing the Baltic to tremble even more violently.

"Relax, I believe you," Russia said. "I know you know better than to lie to me."

Estonia swallowed hard. Russia took his hand off Estonia's shoulder, and Estonia visibly relaxed. He still looked a little nervous, however, as Russia continued to toy with his pipe. Russia eyed the front door of Lithuania's house, as if debating whether or not to go inside.

"I wonder what America thinks he's doing then," Russia said. "Meeting with an imposter…"

Russia finished his sentence at a mumble too soft for Estonia or Latvia to hear. He stopped swinging his pipe and turned around. Estonia and Latvia looked at Russia in curiosity, waiting in tense silence for what Russia had to say next.

"Come with me."

Russia put his pipe away, hiding it somewhere in the folds of his enormous coat and seizing each Baltic with one hand. He led them along the sidewalk, in the direction of the embassy.

"Wh-where are we going?" Latvia asked as he worked to keep up with Russia's pace to avoid being dragged.

Russia looked back at Latvia and smiled. "We're going to the embassy," he said. "I think we should give our American comrade and this Lithuania imposter a visit."

Estonia and Latvia exchanged worried glances but said nothing.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Well, this chapter was fun to write. It's not just the fight scenes; there's a lot of shenanigans in this one. **

**I do not own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

On the ride back to Washington, D.C., while still driving on the freeway through the state of New York, England had decided to call America's president and arrange a meeting. Only partially to England's annoyance – and much more to his horror – the call was going surprisingly poorly.

"Look, Mr. President, you've got it backwards. The imposter is in Lithuania; the real America is with me! You can talk to him yourself!" an exasperated England said.

"Mr. Kirkland, there is no way America could possibly be with you when he met with me late yesterday, and left for Lithuania shortly after that!"

"America was never in D.C.," England said. "He and Canada were attacked upon their arrival at America's house in New York; America was shot, then sent to the hospital. If you don't believe me, call Canada and ask him."

"That won't be necessary," the president replied. "I've received police reports of the attack on America's house. One of the officers interviewed Canada himself, and Canada tells him that he and America got separated during the attack. America confirmed this when he talked to me yesterday."

"Did you forget the part where Canada found America again, right before America was _shot?"_ England said.

"America tells me he was attacked by someone that looked exactly like himself," the president countered. "Obviously, the imposter is the one who was shot. You and Canada have been tricked. However, there is still time to rectify the situation."

"Now wait a minute-"

_Click_. The president had hung up.

England swore and shoved his phone into his pocket. Canada glanced over at England in alarm.

"That doesn't sound good," Canada said.

"You don't say," England growled. "I think this Charles has got an America imposter, and has just used him to more or less take over the U.S. government. The president, at least, seems absolutely convinced that I'm harboring a dangerous America imposter."

"So he's not merely trying to kill us; he's trying to replace us and take over our governments," Canada said. "Prussia was right when he said Charles was trying to take over the world."

England swore again. "And since this fake America is now in Lithuania…" he closed his eyes, trying to think. "It seems Charles' next target is…"

"Someone close to Lithuania?" Canada suggested.

"Most likely," England said. "But who is it? And, why send the fake America? If I remember correctly, Lithuania lost his nation status as well, so it stands to reason that Charles would have a fake Lithuania as well, and could use him for operations in that area."

Canada and England were silent for a minute as each nation tried to figure it out. _Why would it be necessary to use someone as powerful as America, unless his target was also powerful…?_

"Dear God…" England breathed. "His next target is Russia."

Canada pulled over.

"What are you doing?" England said.

England's question was answered by a police car pulling up behind them with the red and blue lights flashing. England buried his face in his palm while Canada rolled down the window. A tall, male officer jumped out of the cruiser and walked up to the window.

"Driver's license, registration and proof of insurance please," the officer said.

Canada produced the requested items and handed them to the officer, who took a moment to look them over. He looked at the picture on Canada's license, then back at Canada, frowning.

"What is your name, sir?" the officer asked.

"Alfred Jones," Canada blurted, thinking only of his instructions to pretend to be America, not yet realizing he had handed his Canadian license to the officer.

"That's funny; this license is for Matthew Williams," the officer said. He glanced at the license again. "Although, the picture does look kinda like you. This your brother's license, and you grabbed it by mistake?"

Canada smiled nervously and nodded.

"Step out of the vehicle, please, Mr. Jones," the officer said.

Canada's face fell. "What for?"

"Step out of the vehicle," the officer insisted.

Canada cast a nervous glance at England before finally complying with the officer's instructions. As Canada stepped out of the vehicle, several other cars pulled over, but none of these were police cars; they appeared to be ordinary drivers.

"Hands behind your back," the officer ordered.

"Why?" Canada asked.

The officer seized Canada's arms and tried to force them behind his back. Canada, now certain this couldn't be a real police officer, and that he and England had somehow walked into a trap, spun around and fought back. He twisted the man's arms, and kicked him in the stomach, sending him careening into the hood of the police car. Canada hurried back to the truck, jumping inside and shifting it back into drive.

"What is going on?" England asked, wide-eyed.

"Some kind of trap," was all Canada could say. He stepped on the gas.

Someone from one of the nearby vehicles that had pulled over earlier jumped out, holding a gun. They aimed for Canada's tires and opened fire. The first couple of shots missed, but eventually one bullet found its mark, and the truck's rear left tire was rendered useless.

"Damn it," England muttered. He quickly took his seatbelt off and reached for his suitcase.

Several figures were now approaching the crippled truck. England unzipped his suitcase and started digging through it. Canada jumped out and tackled the nearest person approaching the truck. More shots were fired.

"These are Charles' cronies, aren't they?" England said, finally locating what he was looking for: his gun. He jumped out and joined Canada in the fray. "How the blazes did they find us so fast?"

Canada didn't answer; he was busy wrestling with the man that had shot out his tires. The man fought fiercely, but was no match for the nation. Canada hit him hard on the side of the head, knocking him unconscious, then stealing his gun. Someone from behind him fired several rounds, two of which struck Canada in the leg. Canada spun to face his attacker, but one well-aimed shot from England's gun took the enemy out.

"We've got to get out of here," England said, taking out two more men.

"Where would we go, and how would we get there undetected?" Canada asked, opening fire on the last attacker. "This place is going to be swarming with police any second."

England looked out on the freeway, swearing colorfully as he saw more police cruisers headed their way. He seized Canada's arm and led him to one of the other cars parked on the shoulder. He jumped into the driver's seat, and Canada took the passenger seat. England revved the engine and took off, not even bothering with the seatbelt.

**(-)**

Russia, Latvia, and Estonia arrived at the embassy right as a large group of people was exiting the building. At the front of this group were America and Lithuania. Following them were Charles and a handful of people from the press; news reporters, cameramen, and the like. Russia looked at America, then at Charles. A smile played at Russia's lips as he approached the ensemble in front of the embassy.

Both groups halted on the steps in front of the entrance. Charles whispered something in Lithuania's ear, and then the brunette began ushering the press back inside the building. Latvia turned to Russia with a worried expression on his face.

"That's not Lithuania," the tiny nation whispered.

"Good day, Russia," Charles said, resuming his walk down the steps. "You're just the nation I wanted to see."

Russia grinned. "That's funny; you're just the person I was looking for, too."

Lithuania came back outside and locked the doors of the embassy. He rejoined Charles and America on the bottom of the steps. Russia let out a small chuckle and withdrew his pipe from the folds of his coat.

America responded by whipping out a pistol. "Put that away, Russkie," he said.

Russia began walking toward the American, unfazed by his thinly veiled threat. "Nyet, comrade," he said. "I think _you_ should put _that_ away." He gestured at the gun.

America smirked. "Not happening, dude."

Russia shrugged. "If you insist," he said.

There was half a second's pause, then Russia swung his pipe at America's head. America leaped backwards to avoid the strike, then fired on Russia. The bullet struck Russia in the shoulder, but he kept up his attack, undeterred by the injury. He charged, seizing America by the collar. Russia swung again, this time aiming for the stomach. America punched Russia in the face a split second before being hit himself. Both nations staggered backward.

Charles and Lithuania charged forward, attempting to grab Russia while he was still stunned. Latvia and Estonia charged as well, but it took both of them just to restrain Lithuania. Meanwhile, Charles grabbed Russia by the collar. America recovered from his injury, and made his way forward.

Russia grabbed Charles' arm with his free hand. He twisted the arm back on itself, while at the same time kicking Charles in the knee. Charles let out a cry of pain and fell back. Meanwhile, America saw another opening and fired on Russia again, narrowly missing this time. Russia looked at America, smiling.

"I thought you were a better shot than that," Russia taunted.

"Shut up." America charged again. Charles followed close behind.

Russia made a wide swing with his pipe, striking both of his attackers and sending them backwards yet again. He cast a quick glance at Estonia and Latvia, who, for the time being, seemed to be successfully holding down Lithuania. A quick glance was all he got; for America and Charles attacked yet again. Russia swung, but America blocked the attack this time. While Russia was occupied, Charles leaped forward, attempting to tackle Russia.

On the street behind them, three taxis pulled up. Germany and Prussia climbed out of the first cab. Charles looked over as more nations started coming out of the other two vehicles and swore under his breath. He reached for his pockets, but Russia grabbed his arm before he could reach whatever he was trying to get. America tackled Russia, but Germany and Prussia ran up and grabbed America, prying him off of Russia.

At some point, Lithuania managed to free himself from Estonia and Latvia's grasp. He pulled out a pistol and fired on Germany, wounding him in the upper arm. America elbowed Prussia in the gut, then backed away from the albino as quickly as possible.

"This way!" Charles yelled, heading back towards the embassy entrance. America and Lithuania went back up the steps to join him. Together, the three kicked down the doors and ran inside.

Russia took off after them first, and was quickly followed by the other nations. They didn't get very far into the building before they found their progress blocked by the same group of reporters that Lithuania had locked inside earlier. The nations tried their best to ignore the media, instead looking through the crowd to try and locate Charles, Lithuania and America. Unfortunately, their efforts proved fruitless; the three must have somehow made it past the press and hidden themselves somewhere else in the building.

"We've lost them," Germany said. "Everyone, back outside."

The nations made their way to the doors, with the media hot on their heels. The reporters were all talking at once, asking numerous questions, trying to figure out what was going on. For the most part, the nations tried to ignore the questions, or at least give evasive answers.

Everyone made their way outside. A couple police cars had already pulled up, and more sirens could be heard in the distance, signaling more to arrive in the next few minutes.

"Oh sure, _now_ the police show up," Scotland said.

"We're not under arrest, are we?" Italy asked.

"Of course; we just declared war on the United States and Lithuania," Romano said sarcastically. "What do you think, stupido?"

"No, we didn't… wait…" Germany said.

"Calm down," Russia said. "All we have to do is explain the situation to the police. We were just defending ourselves, da?"

Germany's phone rang. All the nations looked at him, and he reached into his pocket to retrieve the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi Germany, did you catch the imposter yet?" Canada said.

"No, unfortunately. He got away."

"All right, um… is Russia okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Germany said, casting a sideways glance at Russia, who was talking to one of the police officers. "Why?"

"Because England says he was Charles' next target," Canada replied.

"How does he know?" Germany asked.

"Well, Charles has both a fake Lithuania and a fake America," Canada explained. "And both of them went to Lithuania. So, obviously, his next target had to be a powerful nation close to Lithuania. The only nation that is both close to Lithuania, and is as strong as America, is Russia."

"All right," Germany said. "What about America? Is he somewhere safe?"

"Yeah," Canada replied. "But there's a problem…"


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: This one turned out to be harder to write than I thought it would be. Anyway, things are about to get _really_ fun.**

***insert creative disclaimer about not owning Hetalia here* Enjoy.**

* * *

A few hours after collapsing on Canada's bed, America got back up and walked around; his headache having finally subsided, and the voices of his people came back to him. Remembering England's instructions to "keep an eye on things", America decided to head back to the living room, turn the TV on and check the news.

Nothing interesting seemed to be happening. The news station that America was watching happened to be a local one; only giving reports on things happening in the Ottawa area. America changed the channel several times, looking for a station that would give him international news. Eventually, he found one.

"-information on the two suspects in the roadside shooting on Interstate 81," a female reporter said. "The first suspect is a white male; roughly five feet, nine inches tall. Dirty blond hair, blue eyes and glasses. He was wearing black pants and a black jacket. The second suspect, also a white male, is roughly five feet, eight inches tall. He has blond hair and green eyes, and was wearing green pants and a green jacket."

America looked up at the screen. Those descriptions sounded a lot like Canada and England. At first, America thought it was just a coincidence, but after the reporter gave a description of the vehicle that the suspects had taken off in, the screen went to a live picture of the scene.

In the background, America saw a tow truck hooking up a truck that looked exactly like Canada's. America did a double take, then leaned closer to the screen to get a good look at the vehicle. It had Canadian plates.

"Uh oh…" America muttered.

"The search for the two suspects is still ongoing; if anyone has any information on these men, they are urged to call…"

America ignored the rest of the sentence. He spent a minute looking for Canada's phone, and, once he found it, called England's number immediately.

"America? What's happened?" England asked.

"I should be asking you that question!" America replied. "According to the news, you and Canada are wanted criminals! What's going on here?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself," England replied. "Canada got pulled over, but when the policeman tried to arrest him, Canada fought back. He told me that it was some kind of trap; I guess the enemy's got fake police officers wandering around the U.S. Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it."

"Then what is?" America asked.

"Before we got pulled over, I tried calling your boss," England replied.

"And?"

"He's refusing to meet with me and Canada."

America frowned. "Why?"

England paused before answering. "I'm not entirely sure," he said.

America let out an exasperated sigh. "Did he claim to be too busy or something? 'Cause it doesn't seem right for him to refuse to see one of us for no reason."

"Whatever the case may be," England said. "Plans have changed. Canada and I won't be going to D.C."

"Where are you anyway?" America asked, looking back at the television, which was now showing a news reporter interviewing a driver who had witnessed the scene. "How did you escape the police?"

"We abandoned the car we stole after we came into a residential area in a nearby small town," England said. "When we got out and ran, we hid in someone's backyard. After that…"

"What? What happened?"

"At least for a little bit, we had lost the police that had pursued us on foot. While we were still hidden, I told Canada to find us another car. After he left, the police found my hiding place and started climbing the fence. I went inside the house."

"Okay, what happened after that?"

"Several minutes later, Canada somehow made it into the house without being seen, and he told me he had found a vehicle," England said. "As we made our way out the front door, I noticed the police taking off in the opposite direction."

"They didn't see you?"

"I don't know how he did it, but Canada went right up to the police, and, pretending to be a local resident, claimed he had seen us running down the street. They fell for it, and took off."

There was a pause. "At least, that's what Canada tells me," England said. "I didn't see this; I was hiding in the house, away from the windows."

America chuckled. "I find that kinda hard to believe," he said.

"Regardless," England said. "We haven't had any police tailing us since."

"Where are you now?"

"We're still driving through the state of New York," England said. "Since your boss refuses to see us, we're still thinking of an alternative plan of action. I don't want to risk going into D.C. just to be captured by your government because they mistakenly think I'm harboring a terrorist."

"I can talk some sense into him!" America said.

"No you won't," England said. "You're supposed to be Canada at the moment, remember?"

"Oh, dang it that's right…" America said. "So what do I _do_ while everyone else is busy?"

"Contact Canada's boss," England suggested. "Get the Canadian government to do some investigating for enemy operations on the continent, or something like that."

"All right!" America exclaimed. "I'll do that! Thanks England!" he hung up.

Meanwhile, on England's end, the British nation stared in annoyance at his phone as America abruptly hung up on him. He shoved the phone back in his pocket. Canada, who was driving, briefly glanced over at England as if to ask what had happened.

"I probably should not have suggested that," England muttered, staring out the window.

"What, that he basically take over my government?" Canada asked. "Well, he might as well, seeing as he _is_ supposed to be posing as me. I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid with my country before I get back."

"Well, if he does, you could always return the favor," England said.

"What would I do?"

England shrugged. "Disband the NFL, replace all his Starbucks with Tim Hortons…"

Canada laughed. "I think he'd try to kill me if I tried to get rid of his football," he said. "And there are already Tim Hortons in the U.S."

England sighed. "I was being facetious…"

**(-)**

It took longer than they thought it should, but the nations finally finished talking to the police and the media. The embassy was now closed off while the police continued to investigate, and the nations gathered around on a sidewalk not far away to discuss what to do next.

"How's Lithuania doing?" Germany asked Russia. "How come only Estonia and Latvia were with you?"

"He is sick," Russia replied.

"Sick how?" Scotland asked, not looking convinced. "There's nothing wrong with his country at the moment."

"Remember Brandenburg?" Prussia said. "He was injected with something that made him lose his status as a nation. He's been getting intense headaches ever since."

"Just headaches?" Italy asked.

Prussia nodded. "Well, 'headache' might not be the right word. These are extremely painful and intense, and the voices of the country's people go silent for the duration of the episode."

"But they return when the headache goes away, aru?" China said. "But, if Lithuania is no longer a nation, why is he still able to hear his people at all, aru?"

"The dissolution of a nation is a slow, painful process," Prussia said. "Our immortality vanishes right away; but other things, like our healing abilities and our connection to our people, disappears gradually."

"You sound like you speak from experience," Japan said.

Prussia nodded slowly.

"How are you still alive then, aru?" China asked.

"He adapted," Russia cut in. "During the Cold War, he became the personification of Eastern Germany, which was under my control."

Prussia shot Russia a brief glare before continuing. "After the Berlin Wall came down, I continued to survive as a personification," he said. "Using the same technicality that Romano uses to survive as Southern Italy, even though the nation of Italy is technically unified."

"Unfortunately, that information does us little good," Germany said. "We still need to figure out how to proceed."

"I suggest we begin by checking on Lithuania," Russia said. "Seeing as Charles has replaced him with a fake, why would he bother keeping the original around?"

"They're going to try and kill him?!" Italy exclaimed.

"That might actually be where Charles is headed next," Scotland said, eyes widening in alarm. "There's no time to waste! Let's get over there now!"

Scotland took off at a sprint towards Lithuania's house. The other nations quickly followed.

When they arrived, Lithuania was waiting for them outside the front door. He wore a gray coat over his regular outfit, and had his hands buried in the pockets. When he saw the other nations coming in his direction, he began walking towards them.

"Lithuania!" Estonia called. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Lithuania replied, coming to a halt in front of the group.

"Are you sure, comrade?" Russia said.

Lithuania gave Russia a terrified look. "Yes," he insisted, taking a step backward.

"Hold it," Scotland said, approaching Lithuania as he spoke. "There's a fake Lithuania wandering around. How do we know you're the real one?"

Lithuania paled. "I'm the real one," he said weakly. He gave Russia and the other two Baltics pleading looks.

"If he is the fake, then Charles and the fake America would be nearby," Japan said. "Everyone be on your guard."

A gunshot rang out, and Lithuania fell to the ground, bleeding slightly from the side of the head. The nations looked to where the shot had come from, and saw another Lithuania, still holding the gun up. A tiny amount of smoke came out of the barrel before he finally lowered the weapon. Russia, Estonia and Latvia grabbed the fallen Lithuania while Scotland, Japan, China, Germany, Prussia, and the Italy brothers charged the other Lithuania.

Lithuania dropped his gun immediately and put his hands up. "The other one is the fake!" he cried.

Sure enough, the Lithuania that Russia and the other Baltics were holding suddenly regained consciousness. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe, stabbing it through Russia's coat and into his arm before anyone could react. Russia knocked Lithuania's arm away, and yanked the syringe out before the fluid could empty out of it. Estonia and Latvia restrained the fake Lithuania while Russia threw the syringe on the ground, shattering it. He crushed it under his boot for good measure.

Meanwhile, the other nations had surrounded the real Lithuania and had begun walking him across the street to join Russia, Estonia and Latvia. Another gunshot was heard, and Prussia cried out in pain. He whirled around, searching for whoever had just shot him. When he saw no one, he swore loudly in German.

"Get inside Lithuania's house!" Germany commanded.

He and the other nations crowded around Lithuania to protect him as they made it the rest of the way across the street. Scotland ran ahead and opened the door. Everyone filed in as quickly as possible. Russia came in last, dragging the fake Lithuania single-handedly by the collar. Scotland slammed the door shut and bolted it.

"Russia, are you all right?" Latvia asked, looking worriedly at the hole in the arm of Russia's coat.

"I'll be fine," Russia said. "None of the fluid actually got out of the syringe."

The other nations breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Thank God," Scotland said. "The last thing we need is a fake Russia wandering around."

Russia smiled. "There's already a fake America," he said. "It can't get much worse than that; it's bad enough with the real one."

"Russia!" Japan said, almost in a scolding tone.

China rolled his eyes. The other nations merely pretended to not have heard Russia's statement. There were more important things to worry about at the moment. For starters, they still didn't know who attacked them – although they had a pretty good idea – and they didn't know if the attacker was still out there.

"What do we do, Germany?" Italy asked.

"If our attacker is who we think it is, I say we go back out there and take the fight to him," Russia suggested.

"We may end up doing that," Germany said. "However, some of us have to stay here and look after the Lithuanias."

"Latvia and I will do that," Estonia said.

"We need more than just two," Germany said. "Italy, Romano-"

"Hell no!" Romano interrupted. "I'm not babysitting another nation!"

"Fine; just Italy then," Germany said. "Everyone else: get ready."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Sorry for the late update; I was cramming for midterms. Isn't college fun?**

**Anyway, I still don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

While Itoaly, Estonia and Latvia guarded the Lithuanias, all the other nations in the house readied their various weapons and checked the windows, looking for any sign of an enemy. When they saw no one, Germany gave the go-ahead for the nations to cautiously make their way out of the house and seek the enemy out. They split into two groups; Germany, Prussia, and Romano went one way while Scotland, Japan, China and Russia went another.

When the group split, Germany took his group and circled around to the back of Lithuania's house. Prussia, paranoid of the group being attacked from behind, decided to cover the back for his brother and the Italian while they looked ahead. However, as they reached the back of the house, there was still no sign of the enemy, and no one had fired on them. The only sound they heard was that of distant sirens; probably police coming to investigate the gunshots from earlier.

"We need to get out of here…" Germany muttered.

"Where would we go?" Romano asked. "The police are everywhere, it seems. We're going to get arrested, even though it's that bastard Charles that's causing all the problems."

"Pfft! We're not going to be arrested!" Prussia said.

"Not so loud!" Germany hissed.

Romano dropped his voice so that Germany couldn't hear him, continuing to mutter complaints under his breath. Prussia shrugged and said nothing, and the three of them moved away from the house to continue their search. Germany made sure they moved quickly, yet at the same time keeping a sharp eye out. He also made sure they kept Lithuania's house in view; in case an emergency came up that would require them to go back.

They made their way back to the house in time for the first police car to show up at the scene. Romano saw the car first, signaling the German brothers with a long string of expletives.

"Calm down, Romano; we're not going to be arrested," Germany said.

"He probably thinks we're the ones who fired the shots!" Romano protested.

"He won't if we explain ourselves to him," Germany countered.

"I wonder how Russia's group is doing…" Prussia wondered idly as he, Germany, and Romano went to meet the policeman.

**(-)**

Meanwhile, Russia's group was not having any more luck than Germany's group at finding their target. They had almost finished checking their area, and were about to head back to the house, but there was still no sign of Charles or America.

"This is disappointing," Russia said. "No one has even fired on us yet."

"You _want_ us to be shot at?" Scotland asked.

"No," Russia said. "I want to find our enemy. But it's starting to look like they've fled."

"That means they're abandoning the fake Lithuania, aru," China remarked.

"I don't think so…" Japan said.

"Why not, Japan?" Scotland asked. "Charles and America have disappeared, leaving the fake Lithuania with us. Seems like they abandoned him to me."

"Unless they meant for him to fall into our hands," Japan said.

"Ah, but what would he do?" Russia asked. "He's our prisoner."

"Even as a prisoner, he is still dangerous, aru," China cautioned.

Russia's only response to China's warning was a grin. Slightly disconcerted by Russia's demeanor, China edged away from his fellow nation as they walked along. Scotland and Japan did their best to pretend to not notice Russia's behavior, keeping their attention focused elsewhere.

Presently, the group turned around and began heading back to Lithuania's house. Each nation still kept an eye out, in case Charles or America planned on ambushing them on their way back. When they arrived at the house, they noticed Germany, Prussia, and Romano were talking with a police officer that had just recently arrived on the scene. Further down the street, another police car was on its way.

While they waited, Scotland's phone suddenly went off. He retrieved the phone from his pocket, and went a short distance away from everyone else to take the call. He was only gone for about a minute, and when he returned, he looked thoroughly annoyed.

"What happened?" Japan asked.

"Well, the good news is that Scotland Yard finally found a lead on whoever stole Arthur's spellbooks," Scotland said.

"What is the bad news?"

"They don't have a name, but apparently the individual left on a flight to Lithuania not long after stealing the books," Scotland replied.

"Charles," China concluded. "How is that bad news, aru? Now we know where the spellbooks are."

"No, we don't," Scotland said. "Charles and that fake America fled. We have no idea where they are now."

Germany's group finished talking with the police officer and rejoined Russia's group. Germany quickly gestured at the front door of Lithuania's house, then began walking in that direction. The rest of the nations followed him and went inside.

"The police are doing a thorough search of the area," Germany said, closing the door.

"We already did that, and didn't find anything!" Romano said. "What do those idiots think they're doing?"

Russia shrugged. Then nations made their way into the room they had left Italy and the Baltics in. The fake Lithuania was seated on the floor, leaning against the wall. He had some gauze haphazardly wrapped around his head to stop the bleeding from the wound that the real Lithuania had inflicted on him earlier. Estonia and Latvia stood guard over him while Italy and the real Lithuania were seated on chairs a little way across the room.

"How is the prisoner doing?" Russia asked, approaching Estonia and Latvia, who quickly stood aside, allowing Russia to stand directly in front of the fake Lithuania.

"He appears to be fine," Estonia said. "But he hasn't said a word."

"Well, we can't interrogate him here," Germany said. "We need to leave."

"What's the hurry?" Japan asked.

"Charles failed to get his next target," Scotland cut in, looking pointedly at Russia. "He's also got England's spellbooks with him; we have no idea what he's planning next."

"He's not going to give up on one target so easily, aru," China said.

"So, basically, wherever Russia goes, Charles will follow, in an attempt to capture him," Prussia said.

"I'll teach him to regret that," Russia said, taking out his pipe.

"Ve… be careful, Russia," Italy said.

"You've had one close call already," Japan said, pointing at Russia's arm, where the fake Lithuania had stabbed him with the syringe.

"Wait a minute…" Germany said. "What if Charles thinks that his fake Lithuania's sabotage was successful?"

"Then he'll try to kill Russia," Prussia replied.

Russia smiled. All the nations glanced at him, as if waiting for him to say something.

"I have an idea," Russia said. "However, it will have to wait." He looked pointedly at the fake Lithuania.

"Right," Germany said. "Let's get out of here. We'll go back to my place and discuss Russia's plan there."

**(-)**

Canada pulled the stolen car into the parking lot of a rest stop, and he and England got out. They both took a minute to use the restroom, but did not immediately get back in the car. England wandered a few paces away from the car, taking his jacket off and letting it hang over one shoulder. He hummed to himself as he tried to decide what he and Canada would do next. Canada, meanwhile, opened the back passenger side door of the car and started looking around in the back seat.

England paced slowly back and forth between the curb and a nearby trash can. _If Charles has men posing as police officers here, and also has a fake America deceiving the U.S. government, then our options are really limited…_ England thought. _We don't know if there's anyone in the area that can be trusted. And even if we could try going back to Canada, there's no guaranteeing we won't have similar problems there._

"Hey Arthur…"

England stopped pacing and turned to face Canada, who had gotten back out of the car and was coming over to England's side.

"What is it, Matthew?"

"_Alfred,_" Canada whispered, glancing around at the few other people at the rest stop.

"Oh!" England exclaimed, resisting the urge to slap himself on the forehead. "That's right; sorry Alfred."

There was an awkward silence. England finally broke it by clearing his throat and starting the conversation over.

"Anyway, Alfred, what were you going to tell me?" England asked.

"I think it might be a good idea if we both got a change of clothes," Canada said. He dropped his voice to a whisper with his next statement, "The people at the scene that talked to the news reporters probably told them what we were wearing. If someone saw us wearing clothes that matched the description of those at the scene…"

England glanced at his and Canada's outfits. "I see what you mean," he said. "So, what did you have in mind?"

Canada held up a navy blue hoodie that he had gotten out of the back seat of the car. "This was all I could find in the car," he said. "I was thinking one of us could wear this instead of the jackets we're currently wearing, and go into a nearby store and buy some more clothes."

"Right," England said, handing his jacket to Canada and taking the hoodie. "Let's go."

Both nations got back into the car. Canada revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot, making his way back onto the freeway. Fifteen minutes later, he took an exit that led them into a nearby town. After spending a few more minutes navigating the town traffic, Canada located a mall, and quickly found a parking spot. England jumped out and went inside while Canada followed several paces behind.

Once inside, England went directly to the men's department and quickly selected a handful of items. He grabbed two pairs of jeans, two T-shirts, and one jacket, then went to pay for everything. On his way to the checkout line, he accidentally bumped into another customer.

"Excuse me," England said.

"Not a problem," the other man said.

The other man turned to go, and England could have sworn he heard the man mutter "nice eyebrows" under his breath. England rolled his eyes and made his way to the counter. It took him only a few minutes to pay for the clothes, and when he finished, he quickly went to locate Canada. He handed him one of the changes of clothes, and they both went to the restroom to change.

When they were done, they headed for the door. England was only a few paces away from the door when his phone went off, making the noise that told him he had gotten a text. England pulled the phone out and checked the message. As it turned out, the text was from Scotland, and it simply read: "Charles has the books".

England arched an eyebrow. "Well, at least we know where they are now," he muttered, pocketing his phone and exiting the building.

He and Canada climbed back into the car, tossing the shopping bag – which now contained their old clothes – into the back seat. Canada started the engine once again and pulled out of the parking slot and made his way to the exit. Several slots over, a green car pulled out at almost the exact same time and followed Canada out of the parking lot. It followed them through town, and onto the freeway.

"Um, England? Should we be concerned about this car following us?" Canada asked, checking the rearview mirror. "It's been following us since we left the parking lot at that mall."

England looked over his shoulder at the green car and swore under his breath.

"I'll bet you anything that's another one of Charles' men," England said. "Damn it, I was hoping to avoid another fight…"

"What do we do?" Canada asked, suddenly changing lanes. "I don't think we can lose him here on the freeway."

"The best we can hope to do is lure them somewhere else, where we won't cause as much of a scene," England said.

"I'll see what I can do," Canada said.

He took the next exit he saw. Surely enough, the green car followed them. Canada made his way into the next town, and drove around, seemingly aimlessly, constantly checking the rearview mirror for the green car. Several minutes into this exercise, the green car appeared to have either given up or lost Canada's car, for it disappeared.

"Did we lose them?" England asked.

"It looks that way," Canada replied. "But we can't be sure."

"Regardless; I think it's time we found another car," England said.

Canada nodded. He pulled into the parking lot of a nearby restaurant. England got out first, followed by Canada, who put the shopping bag in the trunk before locking the car. Canada pocketed the car keys, then followed England in the search for another car.

A few minutes went by, and the two didn't seem to be having much luck. England turned around to face Canada, and was about to suggest simply changing the plates on the car, but the bemused expression on Canada's face stopped him.

"Alfred? Is something wrong?" England asked.

"What does he think he's doing…" Canada muttered.

England frowned, confused. "Who's doing what?" he asked.

"My brother…" Canada said. "He's doing something… not sure what though…"

"How – never mind…" England suddenly realized what Canada meant. Whatever America was doing with Canada's government, England sincerely hoped it wasn't anything stupid.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: This is terrible... I've had this fic planned out from pretty much the start, but my timing is just... bad. I think at least one person has pointed this out already in the reviews, too. Sorry guys. (Things will get better, I promise!)**

**Aaaanyway... please enjoy this next chapter.**

**As usual, I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

Shortly after he had hung up on England, America had planned on taking England up on his suggestion that America use the Canadian government to try and find people working for Charles on the North American continent. However, before he could call Canada's boss, Canada's boss called him first. More than a little surprised, America went ahead and answered the phone, almost forgetting to disguise his voice at first.

"Hello, Prime Minister…" America said.

"Canada," the Canadian prime minister replied. "I'm sorry I have to call you in so soon after you just got back, but there are some things we need to discuss."

"Hm? Like what?"

"Well, America called me earlier and told me he was indisposed at the moment, so he's sending a handful of representatives up to discuss a few things."

_No I didn't…_ America thought. He paused for a second, then suddenly he realized; it was the fake America that had called the prime minister. America frowned; what was his imposter up to now? Surely he didn't know about the switch?

"Do they need to meet with me specifically?" America asked.

"They did say that it would be preferable," was the reply. "However, I don't think they'd be too upset if you declined."

"But that would be rude of me…" America said._ I might as well meet them, but if these guys are trying to do what I think they're doing, they're in for a shock!_

"So you'll come?"

"Sure…" America said. "Oh, and one more thing…"

"Yes?"

"There's something I'll be wanting to discuss when I arrive," America replied. "See, before our plane landed, I was talking with America about some things… national security and stuff…"

"Alright, we'll go over it in greater detail at the meeting," the prime minister said.

"Thanks, I'll see you there," America said.

He and the prime minister both hung up. America set the phone down on the coffee table and went to the bathroom. He grabbed a comb and started messing with his hair, trying to make it look more like Canada's hair. It took him several minutes to get Nantucket smoothed down to the point where it didn't stick out quite so much, and then he grabbed another tiny lock of hair and tried curling it so it looked like the curl in Canada's hair. This took even longer than his struggle with Nantucket, and even when he finished, he wasn't sure if he was quite happy with the result. Then there was the issue of his hair being too short, but he could explain that away as having recently had a haircut, which was technically true; the real Canada had indeed cut his hair recently.

America took one last look at his handiwork, then shrugged and left the bathroom, heading for the bedroom to find a suitable change of clothes to wear to the meeting. Fortunately, this didn't take long, and America was headed back downstairs wearing a nice gray business suit, and a tie with Canada's maple leaf motif all over it.

Before leaving, America double-checked Google Maps to make sure the meeting place was where he thought it was. It then took him a minute to find the keys to the old, bluish gray sedan parked in Canada's garage, but finally America found it and let himself into the vehicle. Presently, he was on the road, on his way to meeting with Canada's boss, and several "American representatives" that were more likely some more of Charles' followers.

It was a fairly short drive to the meeting place. America parked the car and went inside, where he met up with Canada's boss. The two of them exchanged a quick greeting, then made their way to the conference room.

"Are America's reps here yet?" America asked as they walked down the hall.

"Yes; they're waiting for us in the conference room already," the prime minister said.

The two reached the room and let themselves in. Already seated at the table were four men, all dressed in business attire. One of them had a briefcase sitting in front of him on the table. The four men rose and greeted America and the prime minister, then everyone took their seats, ready to commence the meeting.

America paid minimal attention to the matters under discussion; he kept eyeing the briefcase in front of the one 'representative' seated directly to his left, trying to guess what might be inside. At one point, the man shot America a bemused glance, to which America responded with a small shrug. America pretended to focus his attention elsewhere, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the man kept looking back and forth between his briefcase and America.

What felt like hours later, the meeting finally seemed to be coming to an end. The prime minister rose from his seat and neatly packed a handful of paperwork into a small briefcase.

"I do believe that concludes this meeting," he said.

Everyone else stood up and shook hands with each other. The four representatives then left, but America and the prime minister stayed in the room. They sat back down.

"Alright, Canada, you said something about discussing national security with your brother on your way back from the world meeting," Canada's boss said. "What, specifically, are we talking about?"

"Well, you remember when I called you and told you about that group we found in Germany?" America said.

"Yes; I take it this is directly related to that?"

"Yeah… some new stuff has come up since the last time I called," America replied. "This group has an America imposter, and they're using him to manipulate the U.S. government."

The prime minister's eyebrows shot up. "Really?" he asked. "When did you learn of this?"

"I was on the phone with England earlier; he's with America at the moment," America replied. "He tried to get himself and America to meet with the president, but was refused. Apparently the president is convinced that the real America is somewhere else, and that England is harboring the imposter."

"And how do you know which America is the real one?" the prime minister asked.

"He and England visited my house earlier this morning," America said. "Unfortunately, ever since they went back across the border a few hours ago, they've been on the run."

"What are you suggesting we do?" the prime minister asked. "This sounds like a problem involving America's own government; it's not the job of the Canadian government to get involved in America's internal affairs."

"It's not an internal problem," America insisted. "This directly affects us, and quite possibly the rest of the world."

The prime minister looked thoughtful. "I see what you mean," he said. "But there's only so much Canada can do when the problem is rooted in somebody else's government."

"I'm not asking much," America said. "All we need to do is send some people down there to investigate. If possible, we might be able to lend some assistance to the real America, and help him convince his boss that he is in fact the real one."

The prime minister leaned back in his chair. "Canada, I appreciate your concern for your brother, but, as I said earlier, the problem sounds like it's rooted in his own government. I'll do as you suggest, but don't expect it to accomplish much."

America rose from his chair, looking visibly relieved. He shook the prime minister's hand.

"Thank you," America said. He turned and left the conference room.

As he walked down the hallway, America ran into one of the American representatives from earlier. It appeared to be the one that had the briefcase, except now, he didn't appear to have the briefcase with him at the moment. America decided to ignore the man, and proceeded to walk by him. Right as he passed the man, however, America noticed some sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. Half a second later, he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his upper right arm.

America whirled around, reaching for whatever had struck him in the arm. He grabbed the object and yanked it out, then seized the representative by the collar with his other hand. Once he was sure the man was not going to be able to free himself, America looked at the object he had taken out of his arm.

A syringe, filled with clear fluid.

"What is this?" America demanded, although he had a pretty good idea what it was already.

He got no reply. A door opened behind America, and the other three men came into the hall. They all ran forward and seized America, pulling him off of their comrade. America thrashed about wildly, shaking his attackers off. He sprinted towards the exit, all four men following in hot pursuit.

America practically crashed through the door to the lobby. He jumped to the side, towards a small group of confused officials. The four men came running through the door a split second later. It took them a second to collect themselves, and an awkward silence ensued as they stared at America and the still-very-confused men standing around him.

"Sorry about that," one of the American representatives said.

He gestured for the other three to follow him, and they walked off, leaving the building without further comment. America stared after them, now looking as confused as the other people around him. Several moments of awkward silence later, and America felt someone tapping on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir…" said the man that was tapping on America's shoulder. "But what was that?"

America stared at the door, then turned to the man and shrugged.

"Honestly, I haven't a clue," America said. He pocketed the syringe and left the building, heading for the parking lot. He stayed wary though; those men probably left him alone only because they didn't want to cause a scene in the lobby. They would likely attack again later.

America got into the car and drove out of the parking lot. He kept an eye out as he drove along, paranoid that those four men would come out of nowhere to attack.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when the phone went off.

**(-)**

Canada and England wound up taking the car into a nearby residential area, doing their best to quickly and discreetly switch the car's current license plates with those of another car parked on the street. England decided to let Canada do that job, riding on the idea that Canada's uncanny ability to go completely unnoticed would allow them to complete this task without someone finding them out and calling the police. The two of them had had too many close calls today already.

When Canada was finished, he and England hurriedly got back in the car and drove away. As Canada drove, England dug his phone out of his pocket and looked at it thoughtfully.

"Who are you calling?" Canada asked.

"I was thinking I should check on everyone else," England said. "And tell them what's been going on here."

"Do you think they might already know?" Canada asked. "There's a chance that fight on the freeway got on international news."

"So what if it did?" England said, entering in a number on the phone as he spoke. "They'd get a rather skewed angle on it, based on the bias of whoever's reporting it. They need to hear directly from us."

England held the phone up to his ear and waited for someone to answer.

"England?" came Germany's voice on the other end.

"Yes, this is he," England replied. "How are things progressing over there?"

Germany gave an exasperated sigh. "Not as well as I would like," he replied. "Charles attacked again, and he almost got Russia. He and the fake America are long gone now, but we did capture the fake Lithuania."

"Well, I suppose that's better than nothing," England said.

"What about you, Canada, and America?" Germany asked. "What's been happening over there?"

"America's still with me; Canada's back at his place," England replied. "Canada called me earlier, telling me that he's up to something. Meanwhile, America and I are still on the run from America's own government."

"What do you mean, Canada is 'up to something'?" Germany asked. "Didn't he tell you what he was doing?"

"No, I'm afraid he didn't."

"That's unusual…" Germany said thoughtfully. "Could you call him again?"

England sighed. "I can try," he said. "Give me a few minutes."

"All right." Germany hung up.

England punched in Canada's number and waited for America to pick up. Seconds later, he did.

"England?" America said.

"What are you doing up there?" England asked.

"Not a whole lot," was the reply. "I just got out of a meeting with the prime minister, and he's agreed to send some guys down to the U.S. to investigate."

"That's it?"

"Actually, no," America said. "Just after I got out of the meeting, some guys attacked me. They stabbed me with a syringe that had some clear fluid in it."

England froze. He stared wide-eyed over at Canada for a moment. Canada shot him a quizzical look.

"What happened?" Canada asked.

"Um," England said, slowly regaining his composure. "Alright, well, what happened after that?"

"They ran off," America said. "I haven't seen them since, but I get the feeling they'll be back."

"Yes…" England took a minute to try to think of what to do next. "Right, whatever you do, do not go back to the house. There's probably an ambush waiting for you there."

"Great," America said sarcastically. "Where do I go instead?"

"Um…" England looked thoughtful again. "I don't know… just find somewhere to hide. Don't let anyone know where you are."

There was silence on America's end. For a second, England thought America had hung up, but then he heard America make a weird spitting noise, indicating that he didn't think much of England's suggestion.

"Screw that!" America said.

"Do you have a better idea?" England demanded. "If so, then I'd really like to hear it!"

"Sorry, England," America said. "But you just said I shouldn't let anyone know where I was going."

"That's not-"

America hung up. England swore and dropped the phone into his lap.

"What's he doing this time?" Canada asked.

"I have no bloody idea," England said, shaking his head. "That stupid git…" He reached for his phone again, this time to call Germany back.

"What did he say?" Germany asked.

England gave an explanation, starting with everything America had told him, and ending with America's abrupt hang-up at the end of the conversation.

"This is not good," Germany said. "Even if they didn't know about the ruse, it's kind of pointless now. We need to find him before the enemy gets to him."

"But we're stuck in New York, hiding from the enemy ourselves," England said. "And you lot are still on the other side of the Atlantic! There's no way any of us will find him in time."

"Wait a minute, England…" Canada said. "There may be a way for us to find him first."

England shot Canada a skeptical glance, but he put the phone on speaker so that Canada could share his idea with Germany while he continued to drive.

"Canada says he has an idea," England said. He looked at Canada.

"Go ahead, Canada," Germany said.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Well, my last midterm is done. Hopefully for the next few chapters there will be slightly faster updates than what I've been giving you guys previously. **

**I don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

"Go ahead, Canada."

As soon as the name came out of his mouth, Germany realized his mistake, and had to resist the urge to slap himself. Then again, he had just said moments ago that the ruse of switching Canada and America had been made useless. He turned around and noticed the rest of his group giving him quizzical looks.

"Canada?" Russia said. "I thought you were talking with England and America?"

"For all intents and purposes, yes, I am talking to England and America," Germany said. "However, Canada and America have switched places at the moment."

The other nations exchanged glances.

"So England has actually been with _Canada_ this whole time," Prussia said. "Meanwhile, _America_ is the one we're looking for."

The group was interrupted when England's voice came back on the phone.

"Yes," he said loudly. "Now that everything's been cleared up, _Canada_ says he has an idea."

"Yeah…" Canada began. "The enemy doesn't realize America and I have switched, right? Because from the sound of things, they tried injecting America with that drug that turns nations mortal. However, America has already been infected with it, so they must have thought they were infecting me."

"So he's going after more than one nation at once now," Germany said. "He's already tried and failed to get Russia."

"I think he's going after whoever he thinks he can get, aru," China said. "A handful of his men attacked Japan and myself not long before we returned to Berlin."

Germany stared incredulously at China.

"Why didn't you mention this earlier?" Germany asked.

"Actually, I didn't think much of it, to be honest," China replied. "And, given everything else that's been happening lately, I almost completely forgot about it, aru."

"Right," Germany said, in a tone of voice that indicated he wasn't fully convinced.

"Um," Canada said. "Can I continue?"

"Yes, go ahead," Germany said.

"Alright, as I was saying…" Canada continued. "Since the enemy now thinks that they've infected both me and America, it's likely that they'll attack whichever one of us they find first."

"What are you suggesting?" Germany said.

"Regardless of which one of us they find, they will attempt to kill us on sight, right?" Canada said. "So, perhaps I could act as a decoy, leading them on a wild goose chase while everyone looks for America."

"No, that won't work," Germany said. "They could easily split their forces; one group would go after you while the other searches for America."

"Hold on, Germany," Russia interrupted. "If Canada's idea is anything like mine, it could actually work."

"And what is your idea?" Germany asked.

Russia glanced behind him at the rest of the group. The fake Lithuania was being held some distance away – safely out of earshot – by Prussia and Romano. The Russian nation nodded slightly, then turned his attention back to Germany. Germany held up the phone, and Russia stepped a little closer to it before he spoke.

"Canada's decoy idea could work," Russia began. "As long as he is able to get the fake America's attention."

"How would he do that?" Germany asked. "And why does he need to distract the fake America specifically?"

"Between him and Lithuania, those are the only two imposter nations that Charles seems to have," Russia replied placidly. "We've already got Lithuania. That just leaves America."

"Are you trying to tell me to capture him?" Canada asked.

"No," Russia said. "Just… distract him. Make sure he doesn't try to go after the real America."

"Alright," Germany cut in. "So, how is Canada going to go about doing this?"

Russia shrugged. "Do something that would require America's immediate attention," he said.

Everyone was silent for several seconds.

"Even if Canada is able to distract the fake America," England said. "How are we supposed to find the real America before Charles does?"

"That should be easy," Russia replied. "If your spying abilities are as good as you say they are, anyway."

"What is that supposed to mean?" England demanded.

"Hey!" Germany interrupted. "We don't have time for petty arguments. We've got a plan now, all we have to do is implement it."

"Hold on a minute, aru," China cut in. "What do we do with the fake Lithuania?"

China gestured back to Prussia, Romano, and the fake Lithuania. Germany looked at the three, then back at China.

"I don't know how much information we can get out of him," Germany said. "But, we'll have to see what we can do."

"So, which one of you is getting the honor of interrogating him?" England asked.

"Well, even if he is an imposter, he's one of the Baltics…" Germany began. He cast a quick glance over at Russia. "Perhaps…"

"You could probably do the job just fine by yourself," Russia said.

Germany blinked. "You… don't want to interrogate him?"

Russia smiled and shook his head. All of the other nations that were within earshot stared at Russia in varying levels of surprise. On England's end, England and Canada were silent; probably just as shocked as everyone else. Russia regarded everyone else with a quizzical look.

"What?" he asked. "I can't interrogate him; Charles is trying to kill me, remember?"

"Oh, that's right," Germany said. "Never mind then. I'll go ahead and interrogate Lithuania myself. As for everyone else…"

He looked around at the group, mentally dividing up tasks for the other nations.

"Prussia and the Italy brothers will come with me," Germany said. "Japan and China, keep an eye out for any more enemy activity in Asia."

Japan and China nodded their understanding.

"Estonia and Latvia will need to keep an eye on Lithuania," Germany continued. "He's in just as much danger as America at the moment. We need to do whatever is necessary to keep him safe."

"And what about me?" Scotland asked.

"You said Charles has England's spellbooks?" Germany said. "Well, we need to get those back from him as soon as possible. I think you're going to have to team up with Russia and go after Charles."

"Lovely…" Scotland muttered, casting a sideways glance at Russia.

"I think that's all for the time being," Germany said.

"Good luck, everyone…" England said.

The strategy meeting now over, Germany and England hung up their phones. Germany and Italy joined Prussia and Romano next to the fake Lithuania. The nations didn't split into their assigned groups just yet; for now, they simply needed to return to the airport. They would then have to split up there, taking flights to different countries.

Everyone took taxis back to the airport. While for the most part, everyone knew where they were going and what they would be doing, Russia and Scotland had been the only ones not given specific instructions in this regard, aside from "go after Charles". As a result, the two ended up arguing over their plans on the way to the airport.

"I say we should take the first flight to New York," Russia said, shortly after he and Scotland had gotten into their cab and started on their way to the airport.

"Why?" Scotland asked. "I very seriously doubt he's in the U.S. at the moment, so wouldn't that be… counterproductive to accomplishing our goal?"

Russia shook his head. "My idea was for Matthew to get Alfred's attention," he said. "That was part of my idea for getting _Charles'_ attention."

Scotland looked skeptical. "And what is that?" he asked.

"Charles is out to kill me, Toris, Matthew, and Alfred," Russia said. He dropped his voice so that Scotland had to strain to hear him. "So, we're going to trap him… by giving him what he wants."

"What?!" Scotland said, eyes widening in shock. "You're not going to…"

Russia chuckled and shook his head. "Don't be silly, comrade," he said. "Of course we're not going to _actually_ give him what he wants. We'll all walk out of this alive, don't worry."

"All right," Scotland said, still looking a little worried. "So, why do we need to go to New York?"

"I already explained part of it," Russia replied. "But, also, we might want to assist Matthew and Arthur, in case Charles has something else up his sleeve…"

Scotland nodded and leaned back in the seat. _Quite the dangerous gambit Russia's cooked up, if I've got his thinking right,_ he thought. _However, if it works, we'll be able to capture Charles _and_ the fake America. We might even be able to get England's spellbooks back._

Once they reached the airport, purchased their tickets, and had passed through the airport security, the nations then separated. Scotland, Russia, and the Baltics went to one gate, Japan and China waited at a different one, and Germany's group waited at a third. During the wait, Germany sent a text to France, asking for an update on progress on a possible cure to whatever had infected Lithuania and America. A little while later, just before boarding the flight, Germany checked his phone for a reply, but nothing showed up. He shrugged; France was probably busy at the moment. He put his phone away and boarded the plane.

Half an hour later, the flight that Japan and China were waiting for finally arrived. Right as they were about to board, China's phone made a noise signaling that he had received a text. He hurriedly pulled his phone out and checked the message, arching an eyebrow when he noticed who had sent the message.

"What is it?" Japan asked.

"It's… from Alfred," China said, holding up the phone so that Japan could clearly see the screen.

The text read: "Hey China dude be careful I think the fake me might be after you."

Japan and China stared at the screen for a bit, then exchanged glances.

"Don't trust this text," Japan said. "I think it's actually from the imposter."

"You're probably right, but why would he do this, aru?" China asked, putting his phone away. "Does he seriously think we'd fall for it?"

Japan shrugged. "We'll just have to be careful, I guess," he said.

China gave a small shrug of his own in response. With that, the two nations boarded their flight, putting thoughts of that text out of their minds. They took their seats and put the seat belts on, only halfway paying attention to the flight attendant's pre-takeoff lecture. A little while later, the flight attendant finished speaking, the plane began moving, and within minutes, the plane was airborne.

The last group of nations to leave was Russia's. They all boarded the plane without incident, and took their seats. The three Baltics all sat next to each other, just across the aisle from Russia and Scotland. However, while they were still waiting for the plane to begin moving, Scotland looked across the aisle and noticed Lithuania was rubbing his temples.

"Are you all right, laddie?" Scotland asked.

Lithuania looked up at Scotland briefly and shook his head. Then he lowered his head again and grimaced as if he were in pain. On either side of Lithuania, the other two Baltics looked on with hopeless expressions on their faces, as if they had seen this before and already knew there was nothing they could do.

Scotland gave up and stared ahead at the back of the seat in front of him. If Lithuania was having another 'episode' right now, then there really was nothing anyone could do. The Scot sighed heavily.

_Russia's plan had better damn well work,_ Scotland thought. _And that Frenchie had better come up with a cure soon; we don't know how much time Lithuania and America have left._


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Apparently I lied about the faster updates. Sorry about that. **

**Aside from that, I think you know the drill: I don't own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

France leaned back in his chair and took a sip from the glass of wine he was holding. When he finished, he set the glass down on the small table in front of him and sighed heavily. Hours of working in the lab with nothing to show for his efforts had worn on the Frenchman's patience, and a glass of good wine would help him calm his nerves before he went back to work.

After another sip of wine, France decided to check his phone on a whim. Maybe one of the other nations had found something that would prove useful to finding a cure to this bizarre virus. For whatever reason, France had not really expected any messages at all, and so he ended up doing a double take when he noticed the text from Germany. He stared at the message for several seconds.

_Of course I haven't made any progress!_ France thought to himself as he reread the text. _Doesn't he realize these things take _time?

France toyed with the idea of sending a sarcastic reply, but thought better of it. While he stared at the buttons on his phone, formulating a reply, France thought back to the discussion he'd had with Germany, Prussia, and England (of course, England had not actually been present, but was on the phone).

Prussia's country had been dissolved not long after World War Two, France already knew that. So, at least for a little while, Prussia had been mortal and vulnerable, just like America and Lithuania were now. It explained how Prussia had so quickly figured out what had happened to them; he'd been through it himself. But it wasn't Prussia's quick deduction that had France so concerned right now.

Despite his efforts to hide it, Prussia had looked scared for the first time in decades.

_He's one of very few of us that has survived dissolution,_ France thought. _And yet he's terrified because America and Lithuania managed to lose their nation status…_

France sipped more of his wine. He looked at the glass, now a little less than half full, and set it back on the table and tried to focus.

_But America and Lithuania turned mortal from a virus, not actual dissolution of their nation. I wonder if that's why Prussia was so upset; someone's found a way to kill us that doesn't require anything be done to the actual nation we personify. We're just as vulnerable as ordinary people now._

"_Mon Dieu…_"

France quickly entered a polite reply to Germany's text, telling him he hadn't made any progress, but that he was working as hard as he could. He sent the text, then set the phone next to his wine glass. He leaned back in his chair and stared intently at the wall.

_But if it's possible for Prussia to continue living as a personification, despite having no country, would it be possible for America and Lithuania to do the same?_ France wondered.

However, the thought had just barely formulated in his head when he reminded himself that the country of Prussia technically no longer existed; the United States and Lithuania still existed, but their personifications had somehow been cut off from them. This sort of thing had never happened before, so there was no telling what would happen; either to the actual nation or to its personification.

France spent several seconds staring wide-eyed at the wall, taking a moment to dwell on the enormity of the situation. He thought back to his long hours in the lab, and the frustrating lack of progress he had made. He was about to get up and return to the lab for what would likely be more hours of frustration and disappointment, but suddenly an idea came to him.

_Perhaps a different approach will yield better results,_ France thought. He reached for his phone again.

**(-)**

Japan and China exited their plane and made their way into the terminal, where they briefly took a seat while each nation checked his phone. As it turned out, neither one had received any messages from anybody. They put their phones away and headed to baggage claim, where they had to wait several minutes for their luggage to show up on the carousel.

"When Germany told us to 'keep an eye out for enemy activity in Asia'," Japan whispered. "Is he telling us to just keep watch in our own countries… or do we need a broader view than that?"

"From the looks of things, the only activity so far has been in my country," China replied. "It seems I'm Charles' next target, so I think we should both stay in my country and look for more of Charles' allies and take them out, aru."

"Will that work with just the two of us?" Japan asked. "Or should I contact our neighbors?"

China looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's a good idea," he said. "We can let them know what's going on; however, I don't need everyone showing up at my house to help out, aru."

The two nations retrieved their luggage and left. They were on their way to the parking lot when China's phone rang. China got the phone out and answered with a greeting in Mandarin. He and the individual on the other end talked for several minutes, and by the time China hung up, he and Japan had arrived at the spot where China's car was parked.

"That was my boss," China explained as he and Japan let themselves into the vehicle.

"What did he have to say?" Japan asked.

"Well, he says that after both my car and the other car had been towed away, some investigators checked the enemy's vehicle, aru," China said. "They also recovered the bodies of the enemy agents. My boss says that one of them had a syringe filled with clear fluid hidden in his jacket. As we speak, Chinese doctors are trying to identify it, aru."

"We already know what it is," Japan pointed out.

"_We_ do, but my boss doesn't," China said. "So I had to explain it to him, aru."

Japan nodded. He and China climbed into the car and fastened their seat belts. China revved the engine and started to drive.

"I also told him that the drug was intended for me," China said. "He said he was going to step up security to prevent me from being attacked again, aru."

"I'm still going to contact the others," Japan said, pulling his phone out as he spoke.

China merely shrugged in response as he pulled into the busy Beijing traffic.

**(-)**

England and Canada ended up staying in town that night, in a small hotel. They also abandoned the car they had stolen, leaving it in the parking lot they had stopped in prior to the phone call with Germany. While they definitely needed a vehicle, both England and Canada decided it was too risky to continue using that one. So, the following morning, England and Canada took a bus into town, where they eventually located a car rental place. Before long, England was driving him and Canada out of town in a white Camry.

"Alright, Canada, Russia says you have to do something to get the fake America's attention," England said. "Do you have something in mind?"

"I have to do something to America's country," Canada said. "But…"

England shot a curious glance over at Canada before returning his attention to the road. "But what?" he asked.

Canada stared intently at the floor.

"I'm not America," he said at last. "I don't have access to his people and government; I'd have to use my own to somehow interfere with them. And it has to be severe enough to need the fake America's immediate attention."

Neither nation spoke for almost a minute.

"Well, hang on a minute," England said.

"Hm?" Canada looked over at England, a curious expression on his face.

"We don't even know where the fake America is at the moment," England said. "If this plan is going to work, we're going to have to do some reconnaissance first."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going to spy on him," England explained. "Figure out where he is, where he's going, and what he's going to do."

"But you just said we don't know where he is," Canada said.

"We can find out."

Canada glanced over at England.

"What are you going to do?" Canada asked.

England's phone rang before he could answer. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the phone, holding it up to his ear to answer it while trying to steer with just one hand.

"Hello?" England said.

"Hello, comrade. Where are you and Canada at the moment?"

"Russia?!" England exclaimed. "Why are you calling me? Aren't you supposed to be looking for Charles right now?"

"And that is what I am doing," Russia replied. "But I need you to help me; can you tell me where you are so we can meet up?"

"Why can't we do this over the phone?" England asked.

"This has to be done in person," Russia insisted.

England was silent for a minute. Canada stared at the Englishman, confused. After a long, awkward silence, England finally spoke again.

"Do you honestly think I'm not going to think this might be a trap?" England said. "_Why_ must this be done in person?"

Russia started to say something in reply, but was interrupted by another voice on his end.

"For God's sake, Russia!" said a voice with a thick Scottish accent. "Just explain your plan; no need to make everyone paranoid!"

"Scotland?" England said. _Hang on; Germany told Scotland to team up with Russia to look for Charles…_

"What is going on?" Canada asked gently.

England put his phone on speaker so that Canada could hear the conversation as well.

"Alright, let's try this again," England said. "Why do you need to meet up with me?"

"I'm going after Charles, and I need you to help me trap him," Russia said. He paused, then, "By the way, has Canada… started on his part of the plan yet?"

"No," England replied. "Why?"

"Good; he can help me too."

England sighed in exasperation. "What is your plan already?!"

"Relax," Russia said. "First, we have to find out where either Charles or the fake America is. Where one is, the other won't be far away."

"Is that so?" England said.

"He figures that Charles and the fake America are working in tandem to attempt to capture other nations," Scotland cut in. "It almost worked back in Lithuania, when they went after Russia."

"Alright, that makes sense," England said. "So what do we do once we find them?"

"Well, actually, that will depend on them," Russia replied. "We'll have to plan our next move based on what they do and where they go. But, before we can begin looking for them, I say we meet up. Combine forces."

"Indeed," England said. "Where are you, anyway?"

"A few blocks away from America's house in New York," Russia replied. "And you?"

England arched an eyebrow. Canada also looked mildly surprised, but said nothing.

"We're driving on the freeway, not far outside New York," England said.

"Oh good, that makes things easier," Russia said. "Could you meet us then? I'll give you the address…"

England and Canada exchanged glances.

"Go ahead," England said.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: Once again, sorry for the delay. There's not much to say about this chapter, so... enjoy.**

**And, as usual, I don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

It wasn't until after Germany's group landed in Berlin, and was on the road back to Germany's house that Germany finally checked his phone. To his relief, France had finally gotten his text and sent a reply. He was disappointed, however, to find out that France had not made any progress. Germany sighed and put his phone away.

Prussia shot his brother a brief glance as he drove. He didn't even need to ask what the problem was; he could tell from the sigh and Germany's facial expression that France's text had not borne good news. He wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Discussion could probably wait until they were back at their house. And wait it did; it was silent in the car all the way back to the house.

Once they did arrive, and Prussia brought the car to a complete stop in the garage, the Italy brothers swiftly and silently set about the task of taking their prisoner inside. Meanwhile, Prussia and Germany took two trips carrying everyone's belongings inside. Italy and Romano's suitcases were left in the foyer, to be picked up by their owners later, while Germany and Prussia took theirs to their respective bedrooms and flung them rather haphazardly on the beds. They then returned to the room that the Italys and the fake Lithuania were in, ready to begin the interrogation.

Germany stood just a few paces away from Lithuania, and the fake nation paled somewhat at the sight of the German. His eyes darted back and forth, looking at each one of his captors in turn, but quickly gave up on the exercise when Germany cleared his throat, the simple gesture suddenly commanding Lithuania's complete and undivided attention.

"Let's start with you," Germany said. "What _exactly_ are you, and how did Charles make you?"

"I am the nation of Lithuania," the fake Lithuania replied. "No one_ made_ me; I've been around for as long as my nation has."

Prussia snorted derisively. "Liar," he said.

Lithuania stared at Prussia with an alarmed expression on his face. Prussia merely smirked in response.

"Tell me, what nation does the bidding of some random guy that has no connection to that nation's country?" Prussia asked. His face lit up with mock amusement. "Let me guess; next you're gonna tell us that you don't even know who Charles is?"

No response. Prussia almost looked insulted.

"Come on," Prussia said. "Tell us what you know about Charles."

More silence. Germany and Prussia exchanged glances.

"Asking nicely never works," Romano said, breaking the silence. "We'll have to get it from this bastard the hard way."

Germany turned around to face the Italian. "And what did you have in mind?" he asked.

Romano stepped forward, glaring menacingly at the fake Lithuania as he did so. He stopped when he was standing at about the same distance from him as Germany. Seconds later, Italy stepped forward as well. While Italy kept his eye on the prisoner, Romano looked pointedly at Germany.

"What do you _think_ I mean by 'the hard way', potato bastard?" Romano said. His right hand slid down to the holstered gun at his waist. "We force the information out of him."

Romano pulled his gun out of his holster and looked over at the fake Lithuania, who was now even paler than before. While it was obvious the fake nation was terrified, he seemed determined to keep silent, for he still said nothing, despite Romano's threats.

"Tell us what you know about Charles," Germany said, even as Romano leveled his gun at Lithuania's face.

Lithuania held up his arms as if in surrender. Romano was unimpressed, and he kept his gun trained on Lithuania. Germany, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow and patiently waited for an answer.

"He is a more powerful nation than any of you could hope to be," Lithuania said.

Germany, Prussia, Italy and Romano exchanged glances, all with expressions of varying degrees of shock and confusion.

_Nation? Since when was 'Charles' a nation?_ Germany thought.

"Explain," Romano demanded, having regained his composure first.

**(-)**

Japan and China managed to make it back to China's house without incident. They took their things inside, but instead of unpacking, they merely set the suitcases off to the side. They also didn't stay inside for very long; China took Japan back out to the car almost immediately after they finished dropping off their things.

"Where are we going?" Japan asked as he climbed back into the passenger seat.

"Germany told us to keep an eye on things out here," China said. "So, we're going to do what we were doing before we left; keep looking for the enemy, aru."

"Do you even know where to start?"

China fastened his seat belt and started the engine before answering.

"I don't know, actually," he replied. "That's why we're meeting up with my boss first, aru."

Japan nodded. "Now let's hope we're not attacked on the way to the meeting, then."

"Agreed."

The conversation over, Japan tried to lean back in the seat and relax for the rest of the drive. It turned out that he couldn't keep himself relaxed for very long, and would keep looking out the window, checking for anything that looked remotely suspicious. Fortunately, the drive to the meeting proved to be as uneventful as the drive from the airport, and in short order, they found themselves walking into the building and exchanging greetings with China's boss.

The greeting was kept short, however, and the group immediately made their way into a conference room which was closed, locked and heavily guarded after they entered. China's boss started the meeting by spreading several maps of the Beijing area on the table. China and Japan leaned closer, looking at the highlighted areas.

"Those are all the places we detected enemy activity," China's boss explained. "It's hard to say for certain, but I think they've got a small base hidden… here."

He pointed to a spot not far from one of the highlighted areas. China looked at the spot, furrowing his brow as he did so.

"You don't know for certain if it's there, aru?" China asked.

"If it is indeed there, no one's been able to find the entrance," China's boss replied.

China picked up the map. The group was silent for a minute; they were waiting for China to say something. Eventually, China put the map back on the table.

"When did all of this take place?" China asked, gesturing at the maps.

"The first one," China's boss said, pointing to a spot right next to the airport. "This happened about an hour before your flight arrived. Police tried to arrest the man, but he got away. He was spotted twenty minutes later, over here."

He pointed to a different spot. "But he got away again," he added.

"What about the rest of these spots?" Japan asked.

"Those were all his allies," was the reply. "We captured one, but he hasn't divulged anything yet."

China looked thoughtful. "It's a start, aru," he said.

"Where is he?" Japan asked.

Japan's question was answered with only a cold, silent stare._ Great; it's classified information,_ Japan thought. _But China and I are nations; surely he can tell us at least?_

"Let us know if he does say anything," China said, interrupting Japan's thoughts. "In the meantime, Japan and I are going to do some investigating of our own, aru."

"What are you going to be doing?" China's boss asked.

"We'll start by looking for an entrance to that base," China replied.

"But, we don't know for certain if this base even exists," Japan cut in.

"Even if it doesn't, we can still look for those enemy agents still on the loose, aru," China countered.

China rose from his chair, apparently deciding that the meeting was over. Japan hesitantly rose from his chair as well. China's boss was the last to stand, gathering up the maps as he did so.

"One last thing before we leave, aru," China said.

His boss looked at the nation in mild curiosity. "What is it?"

"That drug that was in that syringe," China said. "Have the doctors found a way to… counteract its effects?"

"They haven't found anything yet," was the reply. "But then, they haven't had enough time to work with the drug yet."

China and Japan nodded thoughtfully. _It can take years to come up with a cure for a disease,_ Japan thought. _Even though this isn't quite the same thing, it could still take that long to find a cure. But, can we afford to wait that long?_

China showed him and Japan out of the conference room. They made their way out of the building accompanied by a group of armed guards. Before China got back into the car, however, his boss handed him a briefcase containing all the maps they had been looking over earlier. China set the briefcase on the floor on the passenger side, then climbed into the driver's side. Japan climbed into the passenger seat, and, while China started the car, the guards got into the car behind China's. A minute later, both cars pulled out into the Beijing traffic.

**(-)**

England and Canada pulled up to the address Russia gave them, but, as they exited the vehicle, they noticed that Russia was absent. Only Scotland stood by on the curb, giving England and Canada a small wave as they approached him.

"Where's Ivan?" England asked as he looked around, checking to see if maybe Russia was hiding nearby.

Scotland jerked his thumb at the door of the house. "They're inside," he said.

"They?" England asked. "Who else is here?"

Scotland didn't answer; instead, he turned around and let himself inside the house. Canada made as if to follow, but thought better of it when he noticed England remained rooted to the spot. The Canadian shot the other nation a questioning glance, but England merely glared at the door. The door suddenly opened again, and Scotland came back out, closely followed by Russia and all three of the Baltics.

"Why didn't you tell me you were bringing these three?" England asked, gesturing at the Baltics.

Russia shrugged. "There was no need to," he said.

England arched an eyebrow. "No _need_ to?" he said incredulously.

Scotland rolled his eyes. "Shut up and get to the plan already," he said, glaring at both England and Russia.

"Okay," Russia said. "Remember when I said that if we can find the fake America, we can find Charles? Well, I think the best way to do that is to go through America's government; they _do_ keep tabs on him, da?"

"Unlikely," England said with a derisive snort.

"But it might be worth a try," Canada said. "What, specifically, are you suggesting?"

"The theory is that this imposter is keeping in touch with America's boss," England said. "We have to find out from the president where the fake America is going next. However, since the president refuses to meet with us, we're going to have to use other means."

Russia grinned. "You are the best nation at spying."

"Yes, and I was going to do that," England said irritably. "So, why are we here, discussing something that we already know we're going to be doing?"

"Because that is only the first step," Russia said. "Once we know where fake America and Charles are, we close in on them and strike with our combined forces."

"Not_ all_ of us, though," Scotland quickly added, jerking his thumb at Lithuania. "Plus, we still have to find the real America."

"Please tell me you are not sending Lithuania to look for America by himself," England said.

Scotland shook his head vigorously. Russia cleared his throat loudly, getting everyone's attention on him.

"Right now, we need only worry about the first step," Russia said. He walked out to the sidewalk, stopping next to the car parked just a few feet away. "What's the fastest route to D.C.?"


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: *sigh* America's elevator doesn't go all the way to the top floor, I'm afraid... Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

**As usual, I don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

"_Whatever you do, do not go back to the house… don't let anyone know where you are…"_

America parked Canada's car several blocks away from the house. He stared down the street, thinking over his plan in his head once more. He knew England had not wanted him to go back to Canada's house, and, while America could understand why, he still wanted to go back at least briefly. The longer he stayed, the more dangerous his situation would get, so America decided he would only grab what he needed, then get the hell out of there.

As he opened the car door to get out, America felt an involuntary twitch in his right arm. He stared at the arm in bemusement, mentally checking his people to see if maybe something had happened. A minute later, America finally stepped out of the car, furrowing his brow in annoyance and confusion.

_False alarm…?_

After a minute of searching, America couldn't find anything unusual that might have triggered the strange muscle spasm. Maybe he was getting overly paranoid, but America wondered if maybe this was yet another symptom of that nation-killing drug. He rubbed his upper arm – the spot where he'd been stabbed with that syringe from earlier – realizing that he'd now had two doses of that thing.

_Does that mean I'm infected twice over?_ America wondered, now locking the car. _How does that work?_

America walked along the sidewalk, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. As he walked, he would glance around to see if those men that had attacked him earlier were going to show up. So far, they were nowhere to be found. This did nothing to ease America's apprehension, however; he kept expecting one of them to jump out suddenly from some nearby hiding place. Thus, he was genuinely surprised when he reached the front door of Canada's house without incident.

He let himself inside, but didn't let his guard down for an instant. For all he knew, there _really_ was an ambush waiting for him, like England had warned. Slowly and cautiously, America made his way through the house.

_I don't like this quiet… where is Kumajirou?_

America went up the stairs and into Canada's bedroom, wondering why he hadn't seen Canada's bear yet. He opened Canada's closet and grabbed a change of clothes, which he changed into as quickly as he could. He exited the bedroom and made his way down the hall, to the rooms where Canada kept his sporting equipment and hunting gear.

Easing the door open and flipping the light switch, America then went inside the room and looked around. He picked up one of the hockey sticks that lay on the table nearest the door, inspecting it briefly before carrying it with him further into the room. In a closet in the back of the room, America found where Canada kept the rifles he used for hunting. Selecting one, America then looked for the ammunition. Once he found it, he loaded the rifle, and put the spare ammo in his pockets. He turned around and headed for the door, gun in one hand, hockey stick in the other.

_I wonder how upset he'll be when he finds out I stole his stuff…_

He had just barely stepped outside the room and turned the light off when he heard footsteps not belonging to him. Silently mouthing a string of expletives, America retreated around the corner, keeping a sharp eye out for the intruder. He set the hockey stick down and readied the rifle, ready to shoot whoever came down the hallway.

America let out a sigh of relief when the "intruder" turned out to be Kumajirou. He picked up the hockey stick, tucking it under his arm and coming out into the hallway to meet the bear. The bear looked up at America with a curious expression.

"Who are you?" it asked.

_Is this seriously how he greets Canada every time he sees him?_ America wondered. "I'm Canada, your owner," he said.

"Are you going hunting?" Kumajirou asked, nodding toward the rifle in America's right hand.

America thought for a second. "Yeah, sort of," he said.

"'Sort of'? What are you doing?"

America looked contemplative, trying to think of a response. How much did Kumajirou know about the current situation, if anything?

"America needs my help with something," he finally said.

Kumajirou tilted his head slightly. "Okay," the bear said.

America started to walk past Kumajirou, thinking to head back downstairs. Halfway down the stairs, he glanced behind him briefly and noticed that the bear was following him. America decided to think nothing of it; Canada's bear was known to follow his owner practically everywhere. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, America looked at the front door. He quickly tried to think if there was anything else he needed to do here before leaving. While he was thinking, he felt something rub against his leg; Kumajirou was sitting right next to him.

"Are you coming with me?" America asked, still eyeing the door.

"Sure," was the response.

America approached the front door cautiously. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he went outside and made his way back to the car. He unlocked it and jumped into the driver's seat. As he was buckling his seat belt, Kumajirou opened the passenger side door and hopped into the passenger seat. Once bear and nation were ready, America revved the engine and took off.

**(-)**

Japan and China pulled up to the spot believed to be the entrance of the base. Both nations quickly exited the vehicle and were almost immediately met with the group of Chinese soldiers that had accompanied them. However, these soldiers were not wearing their uniforms, and they had spread out such that they looked like just a handful of civilians hanging around the area. To normal passersby, there was nothing suspicious about this group of people.

They split up; China went one way with half of the soldiers, and Japan went in the other direction, followed by the rest. Japan led his group into an alley behind a small office building. He checked everything, even if the object in question looked too small to be an entrance. Recalling the way Canada had gotten into the base in Brandenburg, Japan thought that finding the entrance mechanism _first_ would help in finding the actual entrance. However, his search so far was turning up nothing that looked like it could even be the entrance mechanism, much less the entrance.

Japan made his way to the far end of the alley to complete his search. He spent a few minutes searching the ground, and when he found nothing, he looked to the walls. Part of the wall to his left, on second glance, did look a little strange. Japan stepped closer to it, examining it carefully.

The only window on this side was haphazardly boarded up, but that wasn't what Japan was looking at. Underneath the boards were a series of scratches that, the more Japan stared at them, the more they looked like kanji characters. The only problem was that they were so poorly drawn, it would be almost impossible to read whatever the intended message was. Japan decided to call one of the soldiers over.

"Can you make out what this says?" Japan asked.

The soldier stared at the scratches, but he couldn't seem to make out the message any better than Japan. He shrugged.

"It's probably vandalism made by some homeless man," the man said dismissively.

Japan ran a hand over the scratches. He made one last attempt to read the poorly-written scrawl, but eventually gave up and followed the soldier out of the alley. On a hunch, Japan decided to actually go inside the building with the scratches on its back wall.

The inside didn't look like much; it was a typical (if slightly rundown) office building. A female receptionist sat at a desk in the foyer, and she merely gave Japan a passing glance as he walked in. Japan ignored her, instead looking closely at the walls and furniture for anything that looked out of the ordinary. He sat down at one of the chairs lined up against the wall, running his hands along the chair legs while pretending to be looking disinterestedly at the painting on the wall opposite him. The soldier that had been with Japan in the alley came in, and also sat down.

"May I help you?" the female receptionist asked in slightly halting Mandarin.

The soldier got up and began conversing with her; Japan continued to inspect his chair. Pretty soon, Japan gave up on the chair, got up, walked over to the opposite wall and stared at the painting. Out of the corner of his eye, he checked to make sure the receptionist couldn't see him, then proceeded to run one hand along the frame. When he finished doing that, he briefly made an attempt to remove the painting from the wall to check if there was something hidden on the wall behind it, but the painting wouldn't budge.

_It's too tightly secured to the wall,_ Japan thought.

Japan took a step back, mentally weighing his options. Did he ignore the painting and continue his search, or risk causing a scene just to be able to check behind it? He stole another quick glance at the receptionist, who was still talking to the soldier, then back at the painting.

The office door opened, and a man in a business suit walked in. He shot Japan an awkward glance right as the soldier and receptionist had finished talking. There was an awkward silence as all four people exchanged glances; everyone seemed to be waiting on someone else to say something. While everyone waited, the newest arrival slid his hand into his pocket. A split second later, Japan's phone suddenly alerted the nation that he had just received a text.

"Excuse me," Japan said, turning around and pulling his phone out.

The text was from China; he was simply asking Japan if he had found anything yet. Japan bit his lip and quickly punched in a reply, then sent it. He pocketed his phone and looked back at the others.

The man in the business suit had pulled a gun out and had it trained on Japan. He never got to fire, however, as he was tackled by the soldier, sending both men crashing into the wall. The receptionist jumped out of her chair as if in surprise, but then made her way around the desk and began to approach Japan. She raised her arm, and immediately Japan realized what she was doing.

He sidestepped her strike, then grabbed her arm and twisted it. She swung at him with her other arm, but Japan blocked that attack as well. Japan followed up his block with an attack of his own that sent the woman staggering backwards. Unfazed, she got right back on her feet and charged Japan again. Japan stepped out of the way again, then swung. His attack was blocked at the last second.

Off to his side, the businessman's gun went off accidentally during his scuffle with the soldier. Seconds later, more soldiers came running through the door. Less than a minute later, the fight was over; both the receptionist and the businessman were now in the soldiers' custody. Japan texted China again, telling him what had happened. He only had to wait a few minutes for his fellow nation to come through the doors.

"These two have got to know where the entrance is, aru," China said, approaching the captives.

The two looked defiantly up at China as he stood right in front of them. It was already apparent they would not give up the information easily.

"Are we going to interrogate them here?" Japan asked.

"There's no point; we'd be better off finding the entrance on our own than waiting for them to divulge that information, aru," China replied. "I'll have some men hold them somewhere while we keep looking."

Just then, the door leading into the rest of the office building opened, and a man poked his head out of the opening. He looked wide-eyed at the scene before him for a fraction of a second before disappearing behind the door again, slamming it shut.

"Hey!" Japan yelled, charging towards the door. He seized the handle and pulled. It was locked.

"Out of the way!" China said.

Japan quickly stepped aside. China kicked hard on the door several times. He had kicked a sizable hole in the middle of the door before it fell off its hinges. China grabbed the destroyed door and tossed it aside. With the door out of the way, China, Japan and several of China's men ran through the opening, and into the hallway that led to the rest of the building. The man that had briefly appeared earlier had disappeared.

"What the…"

"Find him! Quickly, aru!"


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note/Disclaimer: So, I don't have a whole lot to say about this chapter. But I'm still putting this here because I think it looks odd without it.**

**I do not own Hetalia. Enjoy.**

* * *

The Italian and German brothers glared at the fake Lithuania, waiting for a reply. The fake nation had claimed that Charles was a nation, but that was quite obviously impossible; none of the nations even knew of his existence until very recently, and certainly none of them recognized him as a nation.

"You've got about five seconds to explain yourself," Romano said threateningly, aiming his gun between Lithuania's eyes. "How the hell is Charles a nation?"

"Hold it," Prussia said, reaching out with one hand and slowly pushing Romano's gun aside. "Don't shoot him; you'll be wasting bullets."

Romano lowered his arm and set the gun aside, mumbling under his breath and still glaring threateningly at Lithuania.

"Anyway," Prussia said, redirecting his attention to Lithuania. "You still haven't answered my friend's question; how can this Charles guy claim he's a nation? I've never heard of a nation called Charles before."

Romano and Germany rolled their eyes at Prussia's comment, while Prussia himself snickered a little bit. Their prisoner, on the other hand, did not look remotely amused. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, then finally made his reply.

"Charles is just his human name," the fake Lithuania said.

"We more or less figured that out already," Germany said, shooting one last glance at his brother. "What _nation_ is he claiming to be?"

Everyone stood in absolute silence for over a minute. The fake Lithuania, still determined to not answer the question, stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact with his captors.

"Stop wasting our time," Prussia said. "Just tell us what his nation name is."

"He's not going to tell us," Romano spat, picking up his gun again. "Not unless we force it out of him."

Italy walked over to his brother, pushing his arm down. "Prussia told you not to waste your bullets on him," Italy said. "There's got to be another way to get him to talk…"

Romano was about to argue back, but was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Everyone turned their attention to the fake Lithuania; the one who had made the sound.

"He introduced himself as the world's newest empire," the fake Lithuania said.

Prussia burst out laughing. "Empire my ass!" he said. "Nobody recognizes this idiot as so much as a micronation! And here he is thinking he's some great world power! Ah, _mein Gott,_ kesesesese…"

"It's not even _possible_ for him to be so much as a micronation," Germany said. "This Charles sounds like a delusional megalomaniac. A dangerous one, I'll admit; but delusional nonetheless."

"Whatever, I think we're done, at least for now," Prussia said, finally calming down. "I think we'll have to wait until later to get any more info out of this guy."

"We've gotten hardly anything from him!" Romano protested.

"Yes; we're going to have to be patient," Italy said. "We could all use a break anyway."

"_Somebody_ needs to watch this bastard," Romano said.

"Thanks for volunteering," Prussia said sarcastically.

**(-)**

The long drive to D.C. proved to be quite uneventful, much to England's relief. Upon their arrival, he and Canada pulled into the parking lot of a nearby large hotel and quickly exited the vehicle. They only had to wait briefly for Russia's group to catch up to them. Once everyone was together, they began walking slowly along the sidewalk. They chatted idly as they walked, pretending to be tourists wandering the area.

"Where are we headed next, Arthur?" Russia asked.

England looked around. "Well, it's going to be a bit of a walk, but I was thinking of heading to the World War Two Memorial." He pointed in roughly the right direction to it.

Canada looked thoughtful for several seconds, recalling from previous visits where this memorial was. He mentally mapped out the area, trying to remember how close it was to the White House. His reverie was abruptly interrupted, however, when the other nations took off at a brisk walk; following England towards the memorial. Canada sighed and ran after them.

About halfway to their destination, Lithuania had to ask everyone to stop. A second later, the Baltic nation all but collapsed on the sidewalk; he awkwardly braced himself against the wall of the closest building and slowly sank to his knees. He gritted his teeth and clutched the sides of his head while everyone else looked on, unsure of what to do.

_This is the worst possible time for him to be having an episode_, England thought._ But we're going to have to do what we can._

"Toris? You all right?" Canada asked, kneeling beside Lithuania. When he got no response, Canada shook the other nation gently. Lithuania groaned and his arms fell limply to his sides.

"I think he's lost consciousness…" Canada said.

"Damn it all," Scotland said, turning to Russia. "We can't take him with us while he's like this…"

"Then we'll split into two groups," Russia said. "Some of us will take care of Toris while the rest of us go to… the memorial."

"What are you going to do? Sit here and wait until he recovers?" England said.

Russia shook his head. "Of course not," he said, kneeling down and easily lifting Lithuania into his arms. "I'll take him back to that hotel we parked at. Call my phone when you and the others are done."

Russia began to walk a few steps back in the other direction.

"Hold on a minute, Ivan," England said. "Are you going back by yourself?"

"No," Russia replied. "I said _some_ of us will take care of Toris while the rest go to the memorial."

As if on cue, Estonia and Latvia walked over to Russia's side. England stared quizzically at them for a few seconds, then shrugged. Without another word, Russia resumed walking back to the hotel, Estonia and Latvia following close behind. England then began walking in the other direction; toward the World War Two Memorial, whilst Canada and Scotland walked closely behind him.

_I thought Russia would have been more keen on spying on America's president than taking care of Lithuania,_ England thought to himself as he walked. He decided not to worry about it, focusing his mind on the task at hand.

The three nations were silent for only about a minute after they had resumed their walk. Eventually, Scotland grew tired of the silence and decided to strike up conversation. It started as idle chat in which Scotland pretended to be discussing the group's sightseeing itinerary, but turned into a cryptic discussion of the plan for spying on the president.

"I've always wanted to go on one of those tours of the White House," Scotland said.

"Those have to be arranged pretty far in advance," England said. Scotland looked somewhat disappointed.

"I think," Canada cut in. He dropped his voice to a whisper, "If you know the right people, you can still get in on a tour, even if you didn't arrange one in advance."

"Really?" Scotland said, regarding Canada with an incredulous look.

"You know what, I think he's right," England said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He furrowed his brow and stared intently at the ground.

"You look like you've got someone in mind," Scotland said.

_As a matter of fact I do,_ England thought._ Whether or not this will work is another question; it might not even be a good idea in the first place._

"Sean, let me see your phone," England said.

"What for?!" Scotland demanded.

"Oh, for God's sakes, I just need to borrow it to send a text!" England said, holding out his hand as if he expected Scotland to comply.

"Use your own!" Scotland said, gesturing at England's pocket.

"I can't," England said.

"What? Why not?"

England bit his lip. "My phone's dead," he lied. "And Matthew doesn't have his with him at the moment."

Scotland didn't look the least bit convinced. "Who are you sending the text to that you can't let them know it's from you?" he asked.

_Damn it Scotland, so you're not as dumb as you look,_ England thought. "Who else do we know…" he said at last. Then, dropping his voice so low that Scotland had to strain to hear him, "…that can get the three of us into the White House, no questions asked?"

Scotland's eyes widened in realization. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked.

"If you've got a better one, I'd like to hear it," England shot back.

Scotland glared at England. "Fine, but I'll send it myself," he said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his phone.

"Wait a minute," Canada said, tapping England on the shoulder in case he didn't hear him. "If we try that, then Sean's the only one of us that can go in."

"Yes, I know," England replied.

"I've got an even better idea," Scotland said with a slight hint of glee in his voice. He started entering the text.

England looked at his brother in alarm. "What is it?" he went over to Scotland's side, looking over the Scot's shoulder at the text he was entering.

"That's…" England said, staring at the screen in bemusement. "…brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?"

Scotland hit the 'send' button and pocketed his phone. "I can think of a number of reasons," he said.

"Shut up," England snapped before Scotland could continue.

Canada shot quizzical looks at England and Scotland, but decided not to ask. The three of them continued walking. Just a few minutes later, as the three were within sight of their destination, Scotland's phone went off. Scotland reached into his pocket and checked the phone.

"That was fast," Scotland commented as he answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Scotland, my boss says you can go ahead and come in immediately," came the voice of the fake America from the other end.

"He's not busy at the moment?" Scotland asked.

"He says this takes precedence," the fake America replied. "But yeah, he says to come over as soon as you can. There'll be some Secret Service guys waiting for you out front."

"Thanks," Scotland said. He hung up.

"Was that…?" England asked.

"That was Alfred," Scotland replied. "He's telling me I can go there right now."

England raised an eyebrow. "That _is_ fast," he said. "Is Alfred over there as well?"

"He didn't say, but I think he might well be," Scotland replied. "In any case, I need to head over there right away."

"Be careful," Canada said.

Scotland took off at a brisk walk in the direction of the White House. England and Canada headed for the World War Two Memorial. They wandered around, only partially paying attention to the memorial they were supposedly here to see. Several minutes into this, England suddenly decided to leave the memorial.

"I need to step out for a bit," England told Canada. "Stay here until I get back."

Canada nodded and continued mingling with the tourists looking at the memorial, while England left, disappearing into the crowd.


End file.
